


An Entanglement

by thequeenmeera



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Gen, also i made plenty of changes that don't fit with either show or book canon, don't hurt me, excluding the already married couples, expect LOTS of relationship drama, i could make this novel length but i'm trying to avoid that, i just don't have the time or energy to fix them, in fact this could be a whole series of books, lots of ppl are already dead but nobody's dying during the fic, p.s. i'm aware i made mistakes with protocol & social rituals, regency au, so just like try to ignore the mistakes, this is going to be one crowded fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeenmeera/pseuds/thequeenmeera
Summary: The Arya/Gendry Regency AU nobody asked for but you're getting anyway!A Secret Santa gift for@veinsofmantraI hope you like it!





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I haven't spent a lot of time researching Regency etiquette or law nor am I very familiar with the landscape of Britain or just Europe in general because I've spent my whole life in wild west (the only time I've been east of the Mississippi was when I flew down to FL for a week to visit my best friend) so while I have done some research so as not to be completely off the wall I cannot guarantee that the landscape, language, mannerisms, etc. will match what you might expect from Regency Scotland and I apologize. If a mistake is particularly grievous please let me know and I'll fix it but if it's only a minor thing then I don't really care.

The family called Stark had resided in the great house of Winterfell – an old monument that had been built on the foundations of a ruined castle – for longer than most of the townsfolk could say although the word of a country townsperson who is not educated in the histories of noble families and the great structures of the land may not be the most reliable source for information on such matters. The family’s ancient history remains irrelevant to the present story and will not be discussed. The family’s recent history however is relevant and begins ten years prior to our beginning in which the old Duke Eddard Stark, called “Ned” by his family, left his home to take up his seat in the House of Lords as well as attend to some business surrounding one of his old friends the Duke Baratheon. He brought his two young daughters with him during which time they were introduced to the court and began receiving formal education as the Duke believed his daughters ought to receive better education than what could be provided by their governess and the library. While in London old Lord Stark was falsely accused of corruption and conspiring against the government and he was executed shortly after his questionable trial. His oldest daughter was taken in by the very family that accused him and his youngest daughter fled and was not seen again until the beginning of our story.  


After the old Lord Stark’s execution the family was stripped of its fortune, titles, and home. His wife returned to her family’s home to care for her sick and elderly father. Their eldest son, Robb, who had been away at university at the time left his studies to join the militia. He fell in war barely more than a year later leaving behind a widow whom he’d eloped with just before he was to be sent to war. His young wife, a lady named Jeyne, was devastated by the news and by her mother-in-law’s insistence that she return to her own family. The former Duchess of Stark was committed to a madhouse shortly after the deaths of her father and son.  


The old Duke’s nephew Jon Stark who was by all accounts the natural son of the Duke’s late sister was already an officer when his uncle died. He served honorably in war, survived, and had risen to the rank of Colonel before his family’s troubles had ended.  


The eldest daughter, Lady Sansa, remained at the Lannister home in London for some years during which time she grew in her education and was engaged to Tyrion Lannister. However when the family destroyed itself when their many intrigues and dramas eventually turned to grisly murders and financial ruin Sansa was able to flee London and take up residence with her mother’s sister in the Cumbria. While there she further refined her accomplishments, practiced graces of personality she had previously lacked and found herself a true romance. She married at the age of twenty to her late cousin Robert’s heir, the Marquess Harrold Hardyng. While Lord Harydng was seen as proud and generally disagreeable in nature to many others Sansa’s affection for him grew from their first meeting into a deep and abiding love. A year after their marriage she gave birth to their first child, a boy they named after her father.  


The adventures of the younger daughter, Arya Stark, would fill several books and often contain scandal and unladylike behavior. In short the young lady disguised herself as a lad and found herself employment on a ship. That ship was captured by another ship due to the terrors of the war, she and a couple friends escaped from that crew and were captured by privateers. While Arya was a good actress eventually her gender was revealed to the pirates and she was left stranded to be captured by another ship. She escaped from them and fled to Venice where she joined a secret organization. Most of the details of her residence in Venice and the organization that sheltered and educated her remain lost. It is believed by some that the organization was involved in aiding Napoleon’s conquest of Europe, others hold that they were dedicated to breaking up empires, still others believe that the organization was simply an odd religious group that was uninvolved in the outside world. Regardless of the details Arya eventually extricated herself from that organization, left Venice and wandered the continent for a few years. She had been staying with an acquaintance in St. Petersburg when she heard the whisper that her family’s fortunes had turned and left there to make her way back to Winterfell.  


The two youngest sons were sent away from the family home just after news of their father’s death reached them. Lady Stark sent them north to the home of an old acquaintance. There they were joined by the children of the old Duke’s dear friend Lord Reed. Young Brandon grew to be fast friends with both Jojen and Meera Reed and mourned deeply with Meera when Jojen succumbed to consumption. When matters began to settle concerning their family, and this took nearly six years, the three remaining youths were sent to the Reeds’ home of Greywater where they resided until Winterfell was cleared for them.

As Bran grew up he grew closer with Meera Reed, by the time he was sixteen he was convinced he was in love with her and his affection never strayed. On the morning of his twenty first birthday he went to Lord Reed and begged the man to give his blessing for Bran to ask Meera for her hand, Lord Reed conceded though he had reservations considering his daughter was a full four years older than Bran but Meera accepted Bran’s proposal with enthusiasm. They were married within a few months and maintained their residence at Greywater, simply moving to a different wing of the house for privacy.  


And now begins our story  


It was on a cold day in January of 1816 that Bran received a bundle of letters from various sources. He had not had correspondence since leaving Winterfell in the first place and then he hadn’t had correspondences because he had only been a young boy at the time besides the short correspondence with his future father-in-law prior to his coming to Greywater so it was a thing of surprise that he was suddenly given what seemed like a stack of letters in one day.  


After supper Bran retreated to his favorite chair in the parlor. It was soft and extremely comfortable situated near the fireplace and next to a window. Bran had his letters and a cup of tea set out on the small table beside him. Rickon was entertaining Lady Stark and her father with his attempts to play the pianoforte. Rickon filled the room with the clangor of an ill-played pianoforte accompanied by exaggerated singing that had the walls been thinner would have set the dogs to howling and any neighbors to contemplating their rifles. Lord Rickon was truly lucky that his audience was only Lord Reed and his brother who were both adept at ignoring whatever Rickon’s antics were and Lady Stark who was nearly always cheery and in the best of humors. Lady Stark’s amiableness was something which all of their acquaintance believed to be a great balance for Bran’s solemn and solitary nature. Indeed her perpetually amiable nature was one of Bran’s favorite things about his wife. Most of the other qualities he enjoyed would not be appropriate to express to anyone beside his wife in private.  


Bran picked a letter to begin with. It was a thick envelope addressed from London. He broke the seal, unfolded the folio and read. As he read Bran held his breath and once he’d finished reading the full letter he had to sit the thing down on the table and drink his entire cup of tea while staring out the window at the snow which was falling heavily, blanketing the whole countryside in white. He kept his vigil and stillness for so long that eventually his wife took notice. She left her brother-in-law to his antics and gently shook Bran’s shoulder, asking him what was the matter. “I – I,” Bran stumbled, “read it,” he indicated the letter beside him which Meera swiped off the table beside him and settled in the chair next to him to read.  


“Is this true?” She asked breathlessly when she finished reading it.  


“I have no reason to believe it’s not true.”  


Lord Reed had had enough of the young couple’s stammering, “What has happened?” he asked, walking over and taking the letter in hand to read it himself. Upon reading it he was so overcome with emotion that he himself could not speak for several minutes.  


Finally Rickon took the bait, “Alright what’s happened now?” he asked, quite grumpy over being left on his own and when the others were so clearly shocked by the contents of only the first letter in the pile that sat on the table.  


“Our father’s name has been cleared” Bran sounded like he was in a daze “The Bolton men have both died in, er, tragic accidents and our titles, lands, and fortune are to be returned to me in full.”  


Rickon frowned, “Just you? I would have thought our father would have left the rest of us some allowance.”  


His brother nodded, “There are many legal matters which I must go to London to discuss in person. I’m sure our father provisioned for all of us but according to this letter the particulars are in my power.” Bran took a steadying breath before he continued, “of course I have no plans to rob you of your portion, whatever it is you’ve been left and even if for some reason you were not provided for I would of course give you whatever reasonable portion of wealth and land that you asked for.” Rickon was appeased and suggested that the group return to enjoying themselves and leave Bran to his letters, he was disappointed on that front as Mrs. Stark and her father were far too interested in what the rest of the letters must contain in light of the first letter.  


Bran picked up the next letter and upon reading the address exclaimed “It’s from Jon!” he proceeded to open it with trembling hands, he read it quickly and quietly while the rest of the party waited. “He sends his regrets that he has not corresponded before now but, he says, he was not sure how to be in contact with us until recently. He informs us that our father’s name has been cleared of all charges – far too late, obviously – and that he expects to meet us in Winterfell whenever it is that we return there as he will be given leave this spring.”  


Rickon thought this was fantastic news, as did Bran. Their cousin had been as beloved as a brother to them all their lives so the prospect of being reunited with Jon was as exciting to them as the prospect of reuniting with their siblings.  


Bran moved on to the next letter which was from their eldest sister Sansa, now Mrs. Harrold Hardyng. Her letter provided nearly the same information as the letter from Jon along with a number of details concerning her own life since their father’s death from her education and residence with the Lannister family, fleeing to Cumbria, her subsequent courting and marriage to Mr. Hardyng, and her greatest of joys – her son. She also expressed her most sincere wish to visit Winterfell when the house was ready to be inhabited again.  


The rest of the letters were similar. There were letters from their remaining uncles, their brother Robb’s widow, and another letter from London concerning the legal matters of reclaiming the Starks’ lost property.  


Bran took his leave from Greywater three days later accompanied by his younger brother. They traveled to London with haste to hear their father’s will, decide on its execution as much as was in Bran’s power, and to arrange for a visit to the great house of Winterfell, a thought that both excited Bran and made him feel weary for he knew the Boltons would not have kept his home in good repair and that it was very likely he would have to spend a great deal of his wealth in repairing the house and replacing most everything in it.  


The legal and financial matters took several days to negotiate. One of the most difficult points of discussion was that the majority of inheritance ought to have gone to Bran’s eldest brother Robb who was dead. Robb had had no children to gain the inheritance so it had obviously passed to Bran. However Robb had been married.  


The circumstances of Robb Stark’s marriage are this: While stationed in Bath he met a young lady from Cornwall named Jeyne Westerling. The girl was in Bath with her family who happened to be friends with the Starks’ enemies, the Lannisters. Despite this, or perhaps driven by it, word spread quickly of their warm regards for each other. Within three weeks of meeting they eloped, disappearing for three days and returning as husband and wife. Young Robb was able to obtain temporary leave which he used to visit his grandfather’s estate. He introduced his wife and her eldest brother Raynald, who had accompanied them to see to his beloved sister’s safety and comfort, to his mother and left the pair in residence at Riverrun with his mother and her family.  


Robb left Riverrun for the war where he was killed within a few months. Robb’s remains were interred on the continent beside the other soldiers who fell. The fact that their father and beloved eldest brother were both robbed of burial with their family and particularly in their father’s case the lack of dignity in his death and burial would always be a point of grief for the remaining Stark family.  


Because Robb had been married there was some discussion regarding whether or not his widow deserved any part of her late husband’s inheritance. This was complicated by the fact that Robb had written a will of his own during a time of great confusion. In his will Robb had listed their cousin Jon Stark as the primary beneficiary of what little wealth and property he had left because he had been trying to keep any claim to Stark property away from the Lannisters who were moving to acquire it through his sister Sansa and for that short period it was believed that Arya, Bran, and Rickon had all died. It was eventually decided that Robb’s widow would be given a modest allowance of five hundred pounds annually until she remarried or died.  


There was also a matter of difficulty regarding the inheritances of Bran’s sisters and cousin each of whom had been named as beneficiaries in the will of Eddard Stark. Sansa had married to a man of some wealth and consequence so her brothers felt she would not need a large inheritance though as their sister and as a daughter of the Stark family she deserved an income or inheritance of some proportion. It was eventually decided that she should receive three thousand a year regardless of her marital status.  


Their youngest sister Arya had disappeared when their father was arrested and was as of yet unaccounted for. Bran believed her to be alive still but had no proof of it so it was decided that Arya would have the same provision as her sister if she ever reappeared. Bran also arranged for men to again attempt to find her but he did not hope that she would be turned up in London.  


From London the Stark men embarked on the long journey north to Winterfell. The house had indeed fallen into ruin and Bran set about arranging for the necessary repairs and improvements immediately while staying in a cottage on the property. In their third week staying at the cottage the men were surprised to be joined by Lady Stark. While surprised the young men quickly overcame their surprise and welcomed the newcomers warmly. Lord Stark was of course most happy to welcome his wife to their home and she took over the running of the cottage.  


By spring the great house of Winterfell was in a flurry of activity. The repairs to damaged parts of the house were being made, new furniture and other items arrived, and the Starks went about hiring servants, being visited by and visiting old friends and acquaintances as well as new neighbors, and writing to their relations to invite them to stay for the summer.  


In other, slightly less exciting news – or to say this was news that would normally have caused a flurry all on its own but was overshadowed by the much more exciting news of the Stark family coming back to claim their home again – Miss Cerwyn had decided to accompany a friend to Bath and was letting her house for the summer _and_ the house had already been taken by a mysterious naval Captain by the name of Waters. The Cerwyn manse, while it paled in size and grandeur to Winterfell, was still a respectable and lovely house barely a mile to the south.  


The party that resided in the cottage was the first to move into the main house. According to gossip originating with the serving staff the group made quite the impression on their new staff when young Lord Rickon slipped a live frog under a platter during their first supper at the house and when the young Duke himself was caught in the throes of passion with his wife in the bushes near the pond on the second day after moving in. It had been such a fine day for a walk and the young couple had simply forgotten that there were other people about much to their own embarrassment.  


Within the following weeks there were many more arrivals. Lady Sansa Hardyng came with her husband, and their young son. Lady Sansa also brought her friend Lady Tarth, an ugly and shy young lady who was the sole heir of a great estate and fortune. The Duke’s uncle Benjen Stark and his mother’s uncle Sir Brynden Tully, both officers, arrived within two days of the Hardyng family. Sir Edmure Tully came brining his wife and their four boisterous children.  


A week after the first group arrived Lady Arya Stark returned from the continent. She arrived late at night with no one expecting her for she had not sent word ahead. No one was more delighted to see her than Bran for she was his favorite sister. He would of course never admit that to anyone. Rickon and Sansa were also delighted to see their sister again and Arya was equally delighted to see them. She brought with her a new cook who was immediately put to work to the head cook. Lady Arya could speak French and Italian and excelled at nearly all the arts her sister had continually oustripped her in as children. On her second day at home she challenged her brother Rickon to a duel over a minor disagreement involving cards in which she beat him soundly with the rapier.  


A letter arrived from Jon Stark to the family on one cool spring day in May. Arya read it aloud to her siblings after dinner.  


_Children, I hope this letter finds you all well and cozy at home. I hope you do not find any intrusion by my bringing a guest with me for the summer. My old commander, General Baratheon, lost his wife recently and as he is my friend I have invited him to summer with us as I believe the cold Scottish air will do him good. We are bringing his daughter Lady Baratheon with us and we plan to arrive on the afternoon of Friday next. I have been well situated in London for the past few weeks as the General is a well-known and well-connected man here both because of his family and his own merit. I’m sure you lot will find him pleasant enough and Lady Baratheon will surely be a wonderful companion for you Arya. I apologize again for taking so long to come North, there has just been a great deal of business to attend to with the war on the continent ending._

_I am looking forward to seeing you all again, all grown up. I have also heard that Sansa and even Bran managed to get married. I am particularly interested to meet the woman who would marry Bran’s frog face or the man who would put up with Sansa’s silliness for the rest of his life – please don’t take offense at that little sister but you always were the silliest girl I knew. I pray womanhood has changed that.”_  


_“I have also met the man who is supposed to be our neighbor for the summer, Captain Waters. I don’t know him well so I cannot say much but that he is a decent sort of fellow. I am not sure he will be much more entertainment at parties than I am, perhaps I am wrong and he will enchant every woman in the county.”_ Arya swallowed and shook her head, reminded of a certain man by that name she’d known once.  


__

Arya returned to the letter, _“In any case I am looking forward to seeing all of you children and meeting our newest additions next week. All my best, Jon._ ”  


With the letter finished some parties, namely the young lord Brandon and his wife retired early and the rest of the group remained in the parlor to play their games or in the case of Mrs. Hardyng to read. Arya went to bed shortly after winning another game. When she was ready for bed she opened the chest at the end of her bed and after digging around for a minute produced a small object which she brought over to the window for examination. In the moonlight it became clear that it was a rough-hewn carving of a bull.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll try to make the rest of the fic more interesting than this chapter. So... what d'ya think? Let me know in the comments.  
> Or you can let me know on tumblr at [theladymeera](https://theladymeera.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I wax poetic about gardens. Also there are new arrivals.

On the morning Jon and his party were due to arrive the sun rose earlier than usual it seemed to the inhabitants of Winterfell. It sent bright rays down on the house’s mottled and mismatching stones as there were few clouds in the sky, an odd thing in Scotland even in the summer. The mist was rising on the nearby river and ponds, creeping through the woods and the forest that nearly brushed against Winterfell’s western side. That side of the house was older than memory and maintained some of what had once been tower drums, crumbling walls, kennels and stables that leaned against those ancient walls. While the rest of the house had been built on the bones of the old castle, one could observe the changes in eras by patched together masonry and woodwork from floor to floor or section to section of the house in this place two of the once-crumbling towers had kept the greater height of their walls and the stairs were still intact. Only the very top and the roofs had to be rebuilt, the effect was eye-catching and some viewers such as Lady Hardyng thought there was a sad beauty to it all.  


There was also a walled-in garden that was almost a wood in its own right. Nobody would call it a courtyard as the only thing separating it from the forest that was known by the locals as the "Wolfswood" - though wolves had been hunted to extinction centuries earlier - was the double layer of ruined walls, what was left of the ancient moat between them. While most of the walls on Winterfell’s south and eastern sides had long either crumbled to dust or been taken apart for use elsewhere the walls on the west and north remained mostly undisturbed, so the moat which had turned into a ditch that was used for irrigating nearby fields was still a moat where the walls stood though it was more like a pond than the menace it may have once been. The whole thing was choked with lilypads, frogs, and insects. There were some small trees and shrubs growing around the edges as well. Generations of Stark children had played in the moat. They would swim and row or play at swords on the drawbridge, the losers would get tossed off into the murky green water. They’d also spent time flinging mud at each other or catching the fish and salamanders with their hands or with tangle-y nets that they made themselves. The roots of the trees on either side of this garden likely intertwined beneath the muck. There were hot springs in that garden along with some half-sheltering structures of indeterminate age. Because of the garden’s darkness, the springs, the place’s nearness to the ancient family crypt, and some nasty things that were believed to have had occurred there long ago involving witchcraft and alleged blood rituals most of the locals maintained that the place was haunted. The Starks alone felt comfortable in the west side of Winterfell with its old towers and dungeons, the crypt and wood and moat. Their summer guests had all been given rooms on the other side of the house and the servants had been discouraged from talking about ghosts around the children. It was to that place that Arya Stark wandered to the morning of Jon’s arrival.  


She had hurried down to the kitchen at dawn and bullied Hot Pie into giving her some breakfast which she’d taken with her to the old garden, munching on a hothouse apple and making plans to bury the seeds somewhere in the Gods’ Wood. The Gods’ Wood the children had called it once, little to their knowledge that had been the Starks’ name for the place for centuries before Jon had claimed the term. He had once heard Ned call the garden by its name but could not as a grown man recall that he hadn’t thought up the term himself. The place was too dark and old to feel like a proper Christian place leaving it as a refuge for whatever was left of the pagan gods their ancestors had worshipped they thought. One of the gnarled old oak trees near the center of the garden had a swing still hanging from its branches. Arya remembered the day she and Bran had begged Jory to make it for them. Even Sansa had loved that swing. She’d often convinced Robb to push her until she was swinging high above them all, her dainty feet brushing the leaves of the nearby birches.  


Arya sat on the swing and pushed off. She swung idly for a few minutes while she finished her apple, savoring its tartness. She picked the seeds out of the apple core and dropped them in the buskin that hung from her belt. She’d asked her mother to please give her pockets once when she was little as the reticules that had only started to grow in popularity at the time were already annoying to her but as her mother pointed out with the style of dresses being so slim one could hardly hide large pockets under their petticoats or the slits in the dress that led to them. There was lungwort and bleeding hearts blooming among the trees, Arya reached down and stroked the silvery-spotted leaves of a lungwort. “Have you missed me?” She asked the plants, “I missed you.” She made her idle way around and out of the Gods’ Wood and across the drawbridge nearby, the green lily-covered water was hidden by the swirling morning mist, and walked out towards the forest.  


Later Sansa might fuss that Arya’s hair had gotten tangled – she hadn’t bothered pulling it back yet – and her skirts muddy but Arya didn’t care. Jon wouldn’t care if her skirts were a little muddy anyway.  


The sun was still on its lazy way up the sky and mist had settled over the hills and little valleys, nearly hiding the peaks in the distance. Arya walked down one of the little paths in the edge of the forest she had known so well as a child. The path was terribly overgrown now, the Boltons had been terrible at caring for the land. There were wilder plants in the forest than the gardens of Winterfell. The blackberries along the path as it wound into a ravine had grown over the path, catching and tearing at Arya’s skirts. She tugged off and picked her way down, skipping across the stream to a connecting trail. She frightened a herd of great red deer near the outer edge of the wolfswood, they fled before her into the southern moors.  


Arya whiled away half the morning wandering the wolfswood and the southern moors. She spoke with the milkman on his way back home and one of the farmers who was out mending a fence, both sent their good wishes to her family. She played a game of fetch with a farmer’s dog that had come to sniff her. Eventually had to turn back towards Winterfell. Arya walked back along the ancient hedgerows and little paths fringed by scots’ bluebells through the heathery moors. As she neared the house she saw a figure walking towards her. At first she thought it must be one of her brothers but it couldn’t be Bran who had such pains in his back and legs, he limped and needed a cane. Rickon’s step always had more spring and his long red hair would have shone in the sunlight. No this man’s stride was strong and stalking. He was large too, larger than most men Arya had seen, that was clearly visible from the distance between them.  


The two people drew closer and closer and Arya began to make out the man’s face. Her heart stopped beating and her breath caught as they drew close. He was staring at her too. They stood still a few feet apart for a few minutes before Arya finally broke the silence, “Gendry? Gendry is that you?”  


“Arya?” his voice was so much deeper than she remembered, “God, you’ve grown up!” He grinned and reached out to ruffle her hair, she dodged and backed away.  


“My hair’s already tangled enough, you bull!”  


Gendry laughed, “Your skirts are torn too. You still look nice though, like a nice oak tree.”  


Arya very nearly hit him for that old joke. Instead of addressing it she said “I need to get home, it’s nearly time for luncheon and I have to change my dress.”  


Gendry looked up at the sky, “Is it nearing that time already?”  


“I’m afraid so, I have to get back home.”  


“So you _are_ living at Winterfell again! I’d heard rumors but I didn’t hope, excuse me, I didn’t think that you yourself would be there.”  


“We returned a few weeks ago.” Arya moved around Gendry and started making her way down the path again, Gendry turned and followed.  


“May I ask who ‘we’ is?”  


“My brother Bran is the Duke of Winterfell now, he got married last winter before we were all reunited so his wife is lady of the house. Our youngest brother Rickon came back with him. My sister was married while we were all apart as well and she has a son – he’s three years old – so she and her husband are staying with us for the season. My father’s brother Benjen, my mother’s brother Edmure and his family, and my mother’s uncle Brynden have also joined our household for the season.”  


“My God that’s a crowded house.”  


Arya nodded emphatically, “Yes, and my cousin Jon will be coming with his former general and _his_ daughter. We’re expecting them this afternoon so you see I must get back.”  


Gendry gave her a good-natured smile, “I can at least see you safely home.”  


“You of all people ought to know that I don’t need your protection.”  


“And you of all people ought to know that I’ve saved your skin more times than I can count m’lady.”  


Arya shook her head and, observing his outfit from the corner of her eye said “Well you seem to be doing well for yourself these days.”  


He nodded, “I am. Making captain helped a great deal.”  


“And what is a naval captain such as yourself doing in the middle of Scotland?”  


“I’m on leave now that I’ve served my time Arya.”  


Arya stopped walking just in front of the gate to the south garden. The house was close though most of her view was blocked by the hedgerow that grew on and beside the crumpled southern wall. “You should not presume to call me ‘Arya’ again Captain,” she said turning back to him. “It is improper.”  


“Then forgive me for my impertinence Miss Stark,” he said bowing stiffly before continuing down the path.  


At his first opportunity Bran called Arya into his study. “Who were you speaking to this morning?” he asked as soon as she sat down.  


Arya stared at him dumbly for a moment, remembering suddenly that half the study’s windows faced the south garden. If Bran had been in there that morning he could easily have seen Arya talking to Gendry. “Our new neighbor,” she said finally.  


Bran raised an eyebrow, “Ah, I see – Sansa was reminding me to call on him soon. It’s just that you seemed to be familiar with him.”  


“We… our paths have crossed before.”  


“So is he a good man, someone we might want for a neighbor?”  


Arya considered her response carefully, remembering everything she’d gone through with Gendry. “He could be. But he has done things that are unforgiveable.”  


“What sort of things?”  


“Not what you’re thinking of but things I would prefer not to discuss thank you.” Arya left the study before Bran could protest. In a way she thought it was somewhat cruel to speed away from Bran, he had a hard enough time keeping up with his limp and his cane but she did not want to reminisce on what Gendry had done to her. It had been years ago anyway.  


Jon arrived with his party not two hours later. Arya was busy entertaining the little children, feigning a sword fight between some dolls and was not present to see the fine carriage pull up before the house and missed the initial reunions. Jon was delighted to see his cousins again and they to see him. All the while he was busy greeting Bran, Sansa, and Rickon and meeting the spouses of the former two he had one eye out for the wild little girl he’d loved so well and she only appeared as the group was about to go back inside, running quick as a deer Arya bounded down the steps and nearly leapt into Jon’s waiting arms. “Little sister!” Jon laughed as he spun her around. “Look at you,” he said as he set her down and mussed her hair, “someone’s made you into a proper little lady at last!”  


“Not so, I can still beat Bran and Rickon at swordplay.”  


“Well it’s not as if Bran has much of a chance,” Rickon interjected.  


“Arya does well at behaving like a proper lady nowadays,” Sansa added, “but I’m sure she can still manage to shock us all” She threw her sister a pointed look.  


“That’s high praise coming from her,” Arya muttered to Jon.  


Jon chuckled and patted Arya’s shoulder, then he turned and gestured a very large man forward, “This is General Baratheon.” The general was an imposing man and even without his title one might suspect him of having it. He was thinner than his elder brother had been – the Starks remembered Robert Baratheon well enough and not fondly. General Baratheon was not jolly, drunk, or consumed with the urges that men often have, albeit they never speak of them around ladies if they have any decorum. A young lady was behind the general and Jon introduced her, “his daughter Miss Baratheon.” The woman was tall and slender. Her face was plain, she had a square jaw and heavy black brows over deep blue eyes, her hair was a shining jet black, her ears stuck out of her hair, and she had clearly had the pox at some time in her childhood as half her face was mottled with the scars that disease left on its victims. Miss Baratheon smiled pleasantly at the Starks and curstyed, “Your graces,” she addressed Bran and Meera first before she moved on to the rest of the group.  


With the summer guests finally gathered Winterfell was full to bursting. They were joined for a late luncheon by Robb’s Lady Stark and her brother Lord Westerling. Arya was seated between him and Lady Baratheon and across from Lady Tarth. Both Lady Baratheon and Lady Tarth were reticent and shy so Arya was left to converse on politics and hunting with Lord Westerling. He was a pleasant enough fellow though Arya thought him a little old to be her dinner partner, he was nearly thirty.  


After luncheon the Lady Stark and Arya took the Ladies Baratheon and Tarth out of doors to enjoy the pleasant afternoon and hone their archery skills.  


“Honestly I’d rather be fishing,” Lady Stark said conspiratorially to Lady Baratheon while Lady Tarth assured Arya she knew her way around a bow.  


“My father used to take me fishing,” Lady Baratheon told her companion. “When I was little he’d take me out to sea in a little boat and we’d fish with great long poles. I caught a marlin once! But my mother made us stop when I got older, she didn’t think fishing was ladylike anyway.”  


“Did you do anything else with your father?”  


Lady Baratheon shook her head, “Not really, he’s not very affectionate though he loves me in his own way. And he always loved me more than my mother.”  


“Hmmm” Meera mused, “Do you like Scotland so far?”  


“Oh, yes. I’ve never been so far away from Essex before. The mountains are beautiful.”  


“They are,” Meera looked almost wistful, “though I assure you that climbing them would make you love them less. Or more.”  


“You’ve climbed mountains?” Lady Baratheon’s eyes had gone wide, incredulous.  


Meera stumbled, “Well not so much _climbed_ as walked in them. It’s hard to breathe when you’re so high up and my legs ached for days.”  


“But you’re so small! If I may be frank my lady,” Meera nodded her consent, “If I were only judging by your size I’d think you weren’t fit to leave your bed.”  


That made Meera laugh, “I’m stronger than I look, I promise. Though Bran always liked to call me a nymph or a fairy.” She stopped and covered her mouth, coloring slightly. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”  


It was Lady Baratheon’s turn to laugh, “Of course not, it’s good that you’re friends with your husband though.”  


“Oh yes, we’ve been friends since we were children.”  


Lady Baratheon glanced at their companions who were busy shooting, they were both very good at it she noticed. “May I ask you something?”  


“Of course.”  


“Do you know Lord Stark well?”  


Meera shook her head, “No, we’ve only just met. But Bran – I mean His Grace – has told me a great deal about their childhoods.”  


“Ah,” the lady’s face fell slightly, “I was just wondering what sort of a man is he? He seems to be very good, my father loves him like a son and Admiral Seaworth liked him too but… sometimes ladies know more.”  


Meera thought this a curious turn, but the lady was of marriageable age and if she had so much money to inherit… “I think if you want to know more you ought to ask the other Lady Stark. They were always close.”  


“I know,” Lady Baratheon shrugged, “he talks about her a great deal, and they embraced almost like lovers.”  


Meera broke laughing violently, she sat on one of the chairs that had been set out. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “But that embrace was not like a lovers’.”  


Her companion blushed, “I just thought that perhaps they are too close. That an opinion I get from her might be biased.”  


“I suppose it would, you could ask more people than just Lady Stark then.”  


“I will do that then.” The two returned to their bows and their companions.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you like?
> 
> I am a dragon and I hoard comments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Manderly hosts a ball, drama ensues.

Outside it was beginning to near summer and to commemorate the turn in weather the Manderly family who had taken a house near Winterfell for a few weeks threw a ball. The house the Manderlys had taken contained a very large hall for dancing and it was lined with candles and crowded. Arya could barely hear anything over the din nor see anything in the dim candlelight. The Starks were gathered around Mr. Manderly and his granddaughters. Wynafryd Manderly was a young lady of twenty four years and her sister Wylla was twenty two. They were both attractive, accomplished, and promised small fortunes for their dowries as they had no brothers and their uncle had failed to marry before he was killed on the continent.  


Sir Manderly as the ball’s host and an old friend of their fathers spent an inordinate amount of time speaking with and attempting to get in the good graces of the young duke and his relations. Arya was standing near her little brother who was patiently listening to their host and only catching every third word or so. She saw a tall, broad figure moving towards her through the crowd. “And so I told Leobold if he doesn’t settle for what he’s offered sometime he’ll find himself without any – Ah, my lad!” The old walrus rose ponderously and clapped Gendry on the back. “Have you had the pleasure of meeting your neighbor your grace?” He asked Bran.  


“I’m afraid not, I haven’t had the time to call.” Bran was frowning though he rose with some difficulty and bowed stiffly.  


“What a pity!” Sir Manderly was exclaiming, “Well in that case Brandon this is Captain Waters, he has his own ship now what was it called?”  


“The _Warhammer_. I’m not responsible for the name.”  


“And, you don’t have any family do you?” Their host asked, Gendry shook his head.  


“Well then I have the pleasure of introducing you to His Grace the Duke of Winterfell.”  


Bran bowed a little more deeply than he had before, Gendry bowed back after hesitating slightly. “Captain Waters this is my wife the Duchess of Winterfell,” Bran started, Meera smiled at Gendry, “And this is my brother Lord Stark, my sister Lady Stark, my other sister Lady Hardyng, her husband Lord Harydng, my cousin Lord Stark, his friend General Baratheon, his daughter Lady Baratheon, my uncles Lord Stark, Lord Tully, and Lord Tully, his wife Lady Tully, my sister-in-law Lady Stark, her brother Lord Westerling, and our friend Lady Tarth.”  


Gendry, poor Gendry, tried to bow to each member of their party in turn and after obtaining a promise that Bran and some other members of the household would visit soon Gendry left to find a dancing partner. Robb’s Lady Stark seemed disappointed that he did not ask her. When they had gone and joined the dancers Sir Manderly called over another man for their party to meet, Arya knew him too though she tried to hide the shock at seeing her old friend again. “Your Grace, may I introduce you to Lord Dayne?”  


Edric Dayne had grown since Arya had last known him though his hair was still nearly silver in color and his eyes were so dark they looked almost black in the dim light of the dance hall. He smiled particularly at Arya and without thinking Arya moved forward and offered him her hand, he shook it eagerly. “How do you do my lady?” He asked, as with Gendry Arya was surprised to note how deep Edric’s voice had grown.  


“Very well my lord.”  


“Would you care to dance?”  


“Of course,” and without a thought or any notice to the way her family was staring dumbfounded Arya followed Edric Dayne into the dance.  


“You’ve grown” Arya told him as they moved through the steps.  


That made Ned laugh “Yes I have, you haven’t… much. Only a foot.”  


“Oh yes _only_ a foot.”  


“May I ask –”  


“– Yes?”  


“What happened to you, after you ran away?”  


Arya bit her lip and nearly stumbled over Edric’s feet. “Many things, Ned” she told him quietly.  


Clearly rejected from the topic Edric instead asked about Winterfell and the area surrounding it, her childhood and siblings. They’d danced two dances before Arya nearly bumped into Gendry who was dancing with Robb’s Lady Stark. The lady was smiling widely at her partner. Arya hadn’t spent much time looking at the woman – she’d spent much more time with her little cousins and nephew – but now that she looked there seemed to be something Arya disliked about her. A glint in the eye, the smugness in her smile. A widow like her didn’t have as good prospects in marriage, especially since she’d eloped with her first husband.  


The dance ended and Arya hurried back to the chairs, away from Gendry. Bran was sitting with Sir Manderly as the two of them could not dance, Bran due to his legs and Sir Manderly due to his size. The big man was droning about the fishing in the North Sea and the war on the continent. Bran was listening amiably but he smiled when Arya sat next to him. “Where’s Meera?” she asked him by way of conversation.  


“Over there” he pointed, “Uncle Benjen and Uncle Brynden have been taking turns entertaining her.” Meera was dancing with Sir Brynden and he must have been telling her a joke because she was laughing.  


“She seems happy.”  


“I hope so. She shouldn’t be stuck over here just because I’m crippled.”  


“You’re sweet.”  


Bran wrinkled his nose at her, “Why do women always call me that?”  


“Because you are.” If they hadn’t been in public Arya would have pinched his nose too.  


“You seemed quite taken with Lord Dayne.”  


“Did I?”  


Bran gave her a pointed look though neither of them could say more due to their audience. “He’s a handsome young man I think,” their host interjected.  


“Yes,” Arya said, she could see Edric was dancing with one of Sir Manderly’s granddaughters, “he is.”  


“Has Arya Underfoot found a husband?” An all too familiar voice said behind them, Arya could tell Theon was smiling before she even turned around.  


Arya knew a number of curse words in several languages and regretted that she could not use any of them to express her irritation at seeing Theon Greyjoy again. Though she was not quite as irritated as her brother who glowered at Theon before sending a curt nod his way. “I didn’t know you were going to be here Theon” Arya said eventually.  


“A pity though you didn’t answer my question.” Theon sat on Arya’s other side.  


“No Theon I haven’t found a husband, nor do I need one.”  


“Hmmm,” Theon scratched his chin, “Well I’m not available for the job. My own wife is over there talking to your sister. They always were close.” Jeyne was indeed on the other side of the hall, she appeared to be talking excitedly with Sansa. “But you little Bran, I heard you’ve married! Where’s the lucky lady?”  


“Dancing,” Bran replied curtly.  


“And not with you?”  


“You know perfectly well that I can’t dance.”  


“Ah, perhaps I shouldn’t have brought it up. That was cruel and I apologize.”  


Both Bran and Arya were surprised by that, Theon had never been one to apologize when they were younger.  


Theon wasn’t finished needling them though. “Well _Your Grace_ I’ve heard that you like that pretty lady wife of yours.”  


“Of course I like her. I married her.”  


“Oh but you like her more than most men like their wives it seems. You see Bran,” and Theon stared pointedly at Meera “most proper men wouldn’t try to, shall we say, _know_ their wives out of doors, in the bushes even. I thought that was reserved for young peasants.” Theon nodded quickly and slipped away while Bran spluttered, his face was nearly as red as his hair.  


“Ignore him” Arya hissed.  


“She’s right lad, that little story isn’t near as bad as what follows most men of your rank.” Arya was surprised that she’d nearly forgotten Sir Manderly was sitting on Bran’s other side.  


Bran sighed, “I apologize Sir but I think I must retire early.” Bran rose with difficulty, leaning heavily on his cane.  


Meera hurried over with Uncle Benjen trailing behind her. “What’s wrong Bran, what did Theon say?”  


Bran grumbled slightly in response, “Is that any way for a duke to behave?” Arya jabbed.  


He sighed, “I’m tired, I’m ready to leave if you are.”  


“Of course,” she nodded then turned to their host “I apologize Sir but it’s time for us to leave.”  


“I’m sorry to see you go Your Grace will the rest of your party leave with you?”  


“Oh I expect not Sir, goodnight.” Meera held tight to Bran’s arm, helping him limp out of the room.  


Arya sat with Sir Manderly for a while longer, listening to his stories about his youth or his dealings with the local fishermen of White Harbor. Eventually she accepted more offers for dances. Two from Lord Westerling, one from the General who despite his stiff nature was a remarkably good dancer, and another with Edric. As soon as they’d dropped their hands Gendry appeared at Arya’s side. “My Lady,” he said and bowed low “would you care to dance?”  


“Yes Sir” she said, though she did not feel like smiling.  


As they moved through the dance Arya felt hot and cold. “This is a lively party,” Gendry remarked.  


“Yes, I suppose so,” Arya said though she was Watching Edric who had found Lady Baratheon for a new partner.  


“Well, you’ve probably been to many balls such as this but as for me, poor naval captain that I am, I have not had such opportunities.”  


“I take offense at that Captain, you know well that I have not had many opportunities to partake in country revelries such as this since I was a little girl.”  


“Ah yes but as a little girl you lived in a house like this. You spent your childhood playing games and being tutored. You were never unsafe or hungry.”  


“I am afraid I do not understand where your vitriol comes from Captain,” Arya said as she swung around to face him. “You should not presume to know more about someone’s life than you do.”  


“Am I wrong?” there was anger in Gendry’s eyes.  


“In some ways no, in other ways absolutely.”  


“But I am not wholly wrong, you admit it.”  


When the dance ended then and Arya nearly ripped her arm out of Gendry’s. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening more with someone who does not annoy you so Captain. And I don’t understand why you would ask me to dance only to vex me.”  


On her way to a seat Arya was intercepted by Jon, “Are you alright?” he asked, his face tight with concern.  


“Of course Jon,” she smiled to emphasize that fact.  


“You don’t need to lie to me Arya. First Theon drives Bran out now this Captain Waters has upset you.”  


“I’m fine.”  


“I don’t believe you.”  


“I don’t want to discuss it. At least not right now.”  


“Alright,” Jon conceded. “We can speak later then.”  


Arya returned to the sidelines, content to spend her time listening to her sister and aunt talk about their children. She rejected any offers she got to dance.  


Elsewhere in the hall Jon had taken up dancing himself. Rickon had fallen in with the Mormont sisters.  


Mrs. Mormont had had five daughters. While the eldest of Mrs. Mormont’s daughters had died some years before and the second eldest was married with children. The younger three were still unattached and rambunctious as young ladies went. The eldest of the trio – Lyra – had spent much of her night trying to capture the attention of Jon Stark and other men of their age, she often succeeded. While Arya would normally have sought out her company it was difficult when one of them was busy dancing. The second Mormont sister called Jorelle was more reserved than her older sisters and often sat on the sidelines during dances. She seemed to hover near Arya for much of the night, rarely adding a word to the conversation but happier that she was with company. The youngest of the girls, Lyanna, was as lively as her sister Alysane had had a reputation for before she’d gone to live in a different county with her own family. It was Lyanna who had captured much of Rickon’s attention.  


When they weren’t dancing they were standing near the piano at which the Manderly girls were taking turns playing jigs and singing. Rickon and Miss Lyanna added their suggestions for what songs ought to be played next – they often suggested funeral marches, hymns, or songs that would not be heard outside a disreputable tavern. Miss Wylla Manderly obliged them once. She managed to play several bars of one of the most depressing funeral marches with Rickon and Miss Lyanna singing along before her sister put a stop to it.  


By the end of the night Sir Manderly reflected that while the young duke had left early on account of Lord Greyjoy’s teasing and a few feathers had been ruffled elsewhere that the ball had been something of a success.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I kind of made all these interactions quick and spent a lot of time telling but writing is hard sometimes.  
> I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gives Jon the Scoop on her past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a shorter chapter and Arya doesn't add many juicy details, those might come up later in the story but I hope just getting a chapter every day makes it better. Also relieved not to have too many of those damned titles since I'm apparently having so much trouble getting it all right. I spent too much time just researching Donostia and Venice and the Napoleonic wars to make sure I wasn't making an egregious historical error to dwell on titles tonight.

Jon would not let the matter drop. For days after Sir Manderly’s ball he pestered her wanting to know what Captain Waters had said to upset her. Arya brushed him off again and again until one afternoon he cornered her near the cold pond in the Gods’ Wood where she had taken refuge with a novel and a bucket of strawberries that had been picked that morning. “I thought those berries were for a tart” he accused her. “And you still haven’t confessed why you were so upset by your dance with our new neighbor. You also appear to have known Lord Dayne before he was introduced to us.” Jon sat on one of the nearby boulders. “Come on, out with it.”  


Arya sighed and set her novel aside, if there was anyone she could trust it would be Jon. “You promise not to say anything to anyone?”  


“Of course.”  


“Where to begin?” She bit her lip, thinking. “It’s such a long story.”  


Jon moved from the boulder to sit on the blanket across from her, snatching up some of the strawberries. “Perhaps at the beginning, when did you meet Gendry?”  


“It was nearly ten years ago. Well just after father died – I was at the execution –”  


Jon swore violently, “You were at the execution?”  


“I didn’t know what it was, I’d been on the streets for days already by then!” Jon’s expression was one of such horror it hurt Arya’s heart to see it. “I’d rather you don’t interrupt me anymore and I’m going to leave out some things that aren’t that important. I don’t want to be here all day.” He nodded his consent and Arya took a deep breath before she continued. “After my father’s execution I was taken in by a sailor, disguised as a boy and put to work on his ship, most of the men in the crew had been prisoners or they were boys like I was supposed to be, orphans who had no better place to go. It was hard work but I made some friends. Hot Pie and Gendry were two of them.”  


“Hot Pie! The new cook you brought with you?”  


“Yes his parents were bakers in London but when they died he was left on the street like me. Anyway Gendry was a good friend in those days. We looked out for each other, kept each other fed and away from whippings. We worked on that ship for more than a year but while we were in port in Donostia” Arya pronounced the name like a native speaker of Euskara, “You might call it San Sebastian, the city was attacked. Most of our ship’s crew were killed and the rest of us were taken and put to work. I was able to stay with Hot Pie and Gendry, we worked for one of the French commanders. Hot Pie cooked, Gendry was employed in the smithy, and I cleaned. When that commander was replaced I was essentially made a handmaid. I brought the man his wine, was present for all his meetings.” Arya shrugged, “It was all wonderful for my underground activities since I was feeding the locals information about the French troop’s plans and movements.”  


“We eventually escaped from the city and happened to run into some pirates who were in a different port city. The locals were in their business and handed us over to them. Hot Pie stayed behind in that town but Gendry and I were taken when the crew left. Eventually we were taken to their captain’s headquarters. He allowed Gendry and another captive into his crew while I was to be kept there as a prisoner, they didn’t know that our family had been stripped of our wealth when my father died.  


“I did stay with them for some time and that’s where I met Edric. You see before this pirate captain became a pirate he’d been an honest sailor, he’d even been knighted at one point, but from what I was told the trouble on the continent reached him and his crew and they turned to piracy to survive. Edric – Lord Dayne – his sister had been engaged to Captain Dondarrion and Edric had gone to sea with him to learn about sailing or maybe to be taken to a different city so he could study there I’m not sure. But Edric was caught in all of that and ended up in a pirate’s crew.”  


“We became good friends, Edric and I, he was closer to my age than Gendry and Gendry was always sullen and short-tempered. He’s a bit like you but he was even more angry. For some reason he never liked Edric and while Edric and I were usually stuck in the Hollow – that’s what we all called the island we were situated on – Gendry had started sailing off with whichever crew would let him come when with them. Whenever they had the materials and the reason Gendry would smith for them but that didn’t happen often so he was usually out at sea.”  


“So after the first few months Edric was my only friend and I think I already told you he’s closer to my age anyway. He never called me a little girl or treated me like one the way Gendry and the rest of the men would. Edric is intelligent and he was well-educated before he became a pirate so we had a great deal to discuss and sometimes the men would bring back books for us. When they did we’d sit on the beach and read books together, those were my favorite days. When we didn’t have books to read we’d practice fencing together since Edric was good at it and I’d received some instruction while I was still in London. Father had hired a Venetian man to train me some months before he died. So Edric and I became each other’s constant companion for the time I was stuck with the pirates.”  


“But all things come to an end and one day Captain Dondarrion came around and packed me off on a ship to the continent with the hopes of selling me for a ransom. I escaped by stealing a little boat and rowing to shore down the coast from where we were supposed to land. It wasn’t an intelligent plan but I was not willing to be used as an object for trade. Gendry caught me when I was escaping, he and I had fallen out long before but that night,” Arya was quiet for a few moments while she struggled with her composure, “I asked him to come with me. We’d escaped together before from Donostia and he was my oldest and dearest friend. I’d been close with Edric but it was always clear to us that we would separate. With Gendry I thought… I thought we’d always be together.” She was rather ashamed to admit that, to being so childish. “I was wrong, he sounded the alarm and made it nearly impossible for me to get away but it was so dark they couldn’t see me and there were so many sharks in the water that no one would dare to swim after me. By the time they were able to lower some boats I was far enough away that they couldn’t see me and I’d rowed towards the open sea which they didn’t expect so I got away.”  


“I never saw or heard from Gendry or Edric again until this week. I’ve no idea how Edric came back into society’s good graces, it’s obvious no one knows he was part of a pirate’s company for several years. I couldn’t possibly speak for Gendry’s situation either.”  


Jon was sitting in shocked silence, he regained his composure long enough to ask “What happened after you escaped?”  


“Well, I traveled across the continent with a new companion who had had the same plan to exchange me for ransom as the pirates had for a few months before I got away from him. From where I left him I traveled to Venice to find the school where my old fencing master and a friend from Donostia were from. The school where my fencing master had studied wouldn’t accept girls but the church where my other friend had been dispatched from did. They took me in. They gave me food, shelter, education. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be but I learned a great deal there.”  


“About what?” Jon asked.  


Arya smiled slightly, “Everything. Languages, history, art, acting – I was employed in troupes several times, etiquette, music, everything a young lady needs to be considered accomplished and most everything else. There were other things they taught me that no proper lady or good citizen ought to know but – wipe that worry off your face they did not teach me to be a prostitute.”  


“Why wasn’t it a pleasant place?”  


Arya bit her lip again, “When I did something wrong I’d be punished.”  


“Well that’s normal, I think.”  


“Not the way they do it.”  


Jon looked concerned, “My God what did they do?”  


“I’d prefer not to talk about it.”  


“You obviously didn’t stay at this” he waved his hand vaguely “church.”  


“Well at first they sent me out to do work for them.”  


“What sort of work? Did you preach to people or care for the sick?”  


“There were different kinds of work and it would not be wise for me to tell you about it.” She glared pointedly at Jon until he agreed to be cowed. “I left there eventually and traveled. I was in St. Petersburg when I got wind of what was happening here with our family. And that is the short version of where I’ve been and how I know our new acquaintances.” Arya got to her feet and began gathering her novel and blanket while Jon kept hold of the strawberries. “I believe I’ve explained myself well enough now if you’ll excuse me I’d like to have some peace and quiet. I’ll see you at supper.”  


Jon took the items from Arya’s hands and took them back to the house for her, brooding over what she’d told him.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks & Co enjoy an afternoon out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess which stories I ripped off from for about half this chapter?

It was on a surprisingly warm morning in June that the members of the Winterfell summer household would spend their day out picnicking. Arya felt sorry for the servants who had to go ahead of their group, carrying all of the supplies. Baskets of food, blankets to sit on, books for the readers, sewing for some of the women, paddles for the boats. Arya would have gone to help them but Sansa scolded her “They’ll get to relax themselves for most of the day and they’re being paid to do this. It’s not as if they’re slaves Arya.”  


“There are slaves though, most other peers buy slaves.”  


Sansa sighed, “We don’t and perhaps the practice will be outlawed soon. You can’t stop all the world’s troubles on your own.”  


“The world would be better if I could” Arya snapped.  


Despite such disagreements the sisters did get along rather well now that they were grown women. And despite such disagreements Arya eventually enjoyed the day’s activities.  


The Starks and their summer guests had invited their near neighbors and acquaintances among them the Mormont ladies, the Manderly family, Gendry, and Edric. They all piled into the boats once they were prepared and rowed downriver. The children had a grand time of it. Baby Ned’s chubby face lit up like a lantern at the excitement of floating downstream for it was the first time in his three years of life that he’d been in a boat. The Tully cousins – Minisa, Edmure, Kermit, and Elinor were equally delighted with the boats though baby Earnest could not enjoy any of it. When the party came ashore little Ed tried to jump into the water – not realizing of course that he could well drown as he had never swum in a river before – and was caught by his father in the act. It took several minutes and a good deal of bribery before the boy stopped wailing at being stopped.  


Once the eating was over the many different members of their party dispersed into smaller groups to entertain themselves for the afternoon. Arya claimed a spot near the riverbank to read and keep an eye out for any wandering children. She was interrupted in this almost immediately by Lord Dayne who sat near her, leaning against the trunk of the large willow tree near her he said “If you sit still long enough you might chance to see an otter.”  


“Really?” she asked.  


“Yes, but they don’t often come out during the day and with all this racket we’re like to only see the water.”  


Arya turned away from him to gaze at the river again, she picked at the skirt on her pale purple dress as it was already too hot. “The water is lovely though” she said finally.  


“Mmm,” he hummed. “Do you want to play a game my lady?”  


“Perhaps,” she answered mildly. “What kind of game my lord?”  


Edric stood and clapped his hand together “I have an idea!” he shouted. When he had enough attention he proposed his idea, “We should construct a story together.”  


“What sort of story?” Sansa asked, clearly interested for she’d always loved stories.  


“That depends on us.”  


“How shall we go about constructing this story?” Miss Wylla asked.  


“It’s all really quite simple. We’ll sit in what is roughly a circle and one person will start us off with a sentence then whoever is next to that person will add another sentence and we’ll go around the circle until our story is finished.”  


There was a general murmuring in the crowd but after several minutes of confusion the group who wished to participate had gathered in a drunkard’s estimation of a circle in the general vicinity of the willow tree. Once they were gathered Edric turned to Arya and said “Lady Arya if you would start our adventure for us?”  


Arya bit her lip while she thought of something to say. “Once there was an orphan boy,” she began cautiously, “who obtained…” she paused thinking again, “the key to immortality.”  


“Ooh,” Miss Lyra said, “the boy had gotten the key by accident when the prince who had been carrying it dropped it without realizing and it rolled and rolled and the boy picked it up without knowing what it was.”  


“That’s silly!” Jorelle exclaimed, nearly forgetting where she was for a moment, then she thought about the story herself. “The boy put the bottle – because the key was a little potion in a bottle – in his pocket and took it back to the little hovel he was sheltering in.”  


Lyanna did not need time to think about her addition, “During the night while the boy was sleeping an angry fairy came and took the boy away to fairyland because the cure for death was never supposed to leave the fairy realm.”  


“Oh! And when the boy woke up in fairyland – the fairies had taken the potion by the way – he had many grand adventures and was knighted by a fairy king” Sansa added.  


“Once the boy had become a knight he decided he wanted to go on the greatest adventure of all and seek the cure for death,” said Lady Jeyne Greyjoy.  


Lady Tarth rubbed her arm nervously for it was a hot day and she didn’t know why she’d let her friend convince her to join this game. “The knight set out on his way to find the cure for death, heading for this mountain range that was supposed to be the hiding place for it and was beset by bandits.”  


“The bandits beat him and took his armor and weapons, leaving him alone, bloody, and feeling naked without his sword.” Lady Baratheon added.  


Bran frowned and thought up his own line quickly, “The knight was rescued by a fairy lady, one of the few of her race with a kind heart.”  


“The fairy and the knight fell in love while she nursed him back to health but before the knight could marry his lady they were attacked by a” Meera turned pale and swayed slightly, “a shadow creature that the knight had thought he destroyed in one of his earlier adventures.” She put a hand to her forehead and her husband gripped her arm looking concerned but she waved him off. “I’m only a little dizzy. It is hot today, I think I’ll go sit beneath the tree for a time.” Lady Baratheon stood and escorted Meera while Bran followed as quickly as his limp would allow him. Disrupted, the group waited to be sure their duchess was situated in the shade and decidedly not ill before they picked up the lost thread of their story.  


“The fairy lady was killed by the shadow and the knight vowed to have his revenge after burying her with his own hands” was Miss Manderly’s addition.  


“The knight travelled far and wide to find the shadow creature but always failed at catching up until one night when the shadow transformed into its true form which was that of an evil queen, she took shelter from a great wind storm in an inn in the western mountains,” said Miss Wylla.  


“The knight also took shelter in that inn but because he and the witch queen were in separate rooms they did not know that their immortal enemy was just down the hall,” Lady Jeyne Stark said.  


“Well,” Gendry was frowning, “they didn’t know they were in the same place until they both came into the dining hall for supper which started a terrible battle between them.”  


“At the end of the battle the knight had the queen cornered and was about to strike her head off when she threw up her hands, pleading for her life” Lady Tully said.  


“She told him that if he agreed to spare her life that she’d bring the fairy lady back to life for him” said Lord Tully.  


“The queen also told him that in order to bring the dead fairy back to life that they needed the cure for death, obviously, so they went to seek it together” said Benjen.  


“They found the cure and fought off the magic and creatures guarding it but the queen was mortally wounded in the fight and, when he saw the woman who had once been his enemy begin to die, the knight was filled with compassion and love for her so he grabbed the little bottle that had been his once so long ago and –” Jon looked pointedly at Edric who was the last in the circle.  


Edric grinned “And he poured all the contents of the precious potion down the queen’s throat though she only needed a drop and sealed it with a kiss.”  


“And when their lips met she sucked his life out with his breath” Arya quipped. “For she never had the power to bring back his dead lover but had only wanted the cure for herself, she took the man’s life as a bonus.”  


“But –” Sansa interjected, “the knight was reunited with the fairy lady in the afterlife where no harm could ever come to them again.” Then Sansa held a hand to one of her own pale cheeks, “I believe I’m feeling faint as well.” She struggled to her feet and Lady Greyjoy helped her to sit down beside her sister-in-law.  


While the husbands of those affected ladies were concerned the rest of the group seemed to forget those troubles for a time and entertained themselves with more simple games. Over the course of the afternoon however more and more of them began to feel ill, not enough to end their activities but enough to make them less comfortable. The children, who noticed the drop in spirits devised a plan to make the picnic more lively once again.  


Lady Greyjoy was engaged in a game of chess with Lady Hardyng – chess was perhaps the only “masculine” activity that Lady Hardyng would participate in, although she never played against men who were not her relations as they were the only men who could be beaten by her in a gentleman’s game without taking a great deal of offense. Lady Greyjoy had just taken one of Lady Hardyng’s pawns with one of her knights, a move that would ultimately have proven fateful for the chess knight, when she reached into a nearby basket to find a refreshment as she was growing hungry again despite the nausea that had settled in her belly earlier when she felt something tickle her hand. She leaned over to examine what the sensation was when she wrenched her arm back, screaming. She knocked over the chess board and fell onto her back into a faint.  


Lord Greyjoy came running, “Jeyne, Jeyne!” he cried.  


Lady Hardyng produced a small bottle of smelling salts to revive her friend who, upon waking up, vomited onto her friend’s skirts. Lady Hardyng fought very hard to maintain her composure as the only person to have vomited on her since she was a child had been her own son as she had chosen to forget the incident involving her previous betrothed in his drunken state on the night of their engagement.  


Miss Wylla Manderly discovered the source of Lady Greyjoy’s distress when she peered into the basket and first shrieked before she laughed. “Look!” she cried, “it’s been filled with insects.” She presented the basket to the gathered men.  


Lord Tully knew exactly where to look for the culprits but did not have the constitution to address them for he was nearly as ill as Lady Greyjoy. In fact between the heat and the excitement nearly the entire party was swept up in sudden illness.  


Transporting the whole party back to Winterfell was a sore trial for the servants who had been unfortunate enough to be assigned to the task. Eventually it was decided that the pigeon pie that had been served as the main course of their dinner must have gone bad, resulting in the whole party’s sickness. It was nearly two days before the household and their neighbors who had all been invited to stay recovered in full.  


During those two days the under-cooks spent their time cowering in the kitchen, worried that they would be blamed for the disaster. The head cook however was defiant because, in his words, “It was too hot a day. It was the heat turned the pie bad and I haven’t anything to do with it!”  


Locked away in the duchess’s bedroom Bran kept his wife company through her illness as he had not eaten the pie and was not ill – he detested pigeon pie after all and the day’s events only served to add to his prejudice against it. “But it’s strange,” Meera told him, “I didn’t eat the pie either. I just felt ill because of the heat.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the chapters have been shorter, writing is hard but I still enjoyed writing this chapter. Let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The household recovers from their brush with mass food poisoning

Arya recovered from the mass illness quickly and on the day after the eventful picnic was entertaining Kermit, Elinor, and Baby Ned because on account of their being so little had not been forced to eat any of the offending pigeon pies. The three little ones were doing their best to put together a play to entertain their still very ill parents. It was a great trial because none of the children could read nor could they remember their lines. Arya was simply doing her best to teach the children the general outline of their chosen story – she had picked a little known version of _Apollo and Daphne_ as she herself had played the latter of the title characters many times while she was employed as an actress. The play the children were rehearsing bore very little resemblance to the original. The little group was situated in the drawing room so the two older children who were very ill could have peace and quiet in the nursery.  


The three little ones dashed about, tripping over the little chitons Arya had made for them and, as Arya had feared, baby Ned tumbled and hit his face on a chair. She and her Tully cousins rushed to his aid. Half of his face was beginning to swell and his screams were loud enough to deafen a body. “Shhh, hush now,” Arya told him as she picked him up to return him to the nursery but before she could the door burst open and Gendry ran in, a maid on his heels.  


“What is it?” Gendry asked though his question was answered by Baby Ned who was wailing in his aunt’s arms.  


“Poor little lamb,” the maid said and she took the screaming toddler from Arya’s arms and carried him back to the nursery for her.  


Arya stood staring at Gendry with the two other children, their chitons falling off, clinging to her skirts. “I didn’t know you’d recovered Captain,” she said at last.  


“I could say the same thing about you my lady.” Gendry noticed the children in their costumes, “So, what are you lot doing? Are you going to put on a play for us?” He asked, crouching to look Kermit in the eye.  


“Yeth thir!” Kermit lisped.  


“Ah, what’s the play?”  


“It’s a surprise!” Elinor squealed.  


“Oh, I understand” Gendry bobbed his head. “I look forward to your performance my young sir and madam. I’m sure it will be grand.”  


“Yeth, couthin Arya taught it to us and uncle Brynden say-th that the-th the betht actreth.” Young Kermit struggled through each of his lisps.  


“Is she now?” Gendry glanced up at Arya “Will she be performing with you?”  


“No,” Elinor answered. “It’s only us.”  


They set the children back to their rehearsal. In this version Elinor forgot that Daphne becomes a tree and instead allowed her Apollo to carry her back to Olympus. Arya had to admit that it was the most accurate version of the story the children had recreated that day.  


“They’re sweet children,” Gendry said. He looked very happy.  


“They are. Two of the best.”  


Gendry and Arya sat together to watch the children at their play “Most of the people are still ill, who will they perform for?”  


“Our plan was for them to perform for those who were well enough.”  


“Or you could bring them to the different bedrooms if your audience is too small.”  


Arya raised an eyebrow, “There are some things about that plan that may be improper.”  


Gendry soured. “Of course, but I was thinking of how disappointed some of your guests may be at not being able to see the children.”  


“I am aware of that Captain, I was merely pointing out that some of our guests may look on the suggestion unfavorably.”  


“Then perhaps you could ask people if they want to see the children before you take them into their bedrooms?”  


“Perhaps I will, perhaps I will not.” Arya did not think it a terrible idea but she did not appreciate Gendry’s tone.  


“My suggestion may not have been the most proprietary my lady but I was thinking about the peoples’ happiness. I do not understand why you must be so irritable.”  


“Irritable? We’re not children anymore Gendry.”  


“That is all too obvious.”  


Arya made a face, “What does that mean?”  


Gendry flushed, “it means the obvious. We are not children anymore and yet we are quarreling like children.”  


“It’s not my fault you take offense when I point out that your idea would likely offend half of our guests.”  


“I was trying to be helpful.”  


Arya knew that but there was something in her, a little creature that wanted to claw Gendry’s eyes out for being stupid. “Well you weren’t helpful” she said.  


Gendry seemed to inflate like a pig bladder toy and as he was about to speak again the door to the sitting room opened. “Ah there you are. Hello Arya, Captain. It’ll be good to have company again.” Jeyne Stark was smiling broadly at the two of them. She was a lovely woman even though she looked thin from the illness of the last day but her nut-brown curls glowed in the light that floated through the windows. Arya was rather glad to see her.  


“Am I interrupting something?” Jeyne asked, wide-eyed. Both Arya and Gendry looked away and at their feet, ashamed. They’d been bickering like children. “I could go somewhere else,” Jeyne ventured.  


Gendry rose “My Lady, would you like to take a stroll through the gardens with me?” he asked Jeyne. For a moment Arya had thought he was asking her.  


Jeyne’s smile was lovely, “That sounds wonderful Captain” she said and took the arm he offered.  


Arya stood still watching the door until a Elinor and Kermit attacked her legs, dragging her to the floor while they screamed like small hellions.  


That evening a handful of residents and guests gathered in the parlor to watch the childrens’ play or rather an attempt at a play. The end result of a day’s preparation was three children – Baby Ned was allowed to participate in his role of a sadly bruised Eros – wearing chitons over their clothes. They wandered around the empty space between the chairs and the walls. Little Kermit remembered the story best and tried to goad the younger children into following it but Elinor preferred leaping about the room in her laurel leaves and Baby Ned kept running to embrace his mother.  


Arya did take the children for a private performance. While Meera had felt perfectly alright since early in the afternoon she’d agreed to remain in bed until the next day at the request of her husband. In their second performance Kermit did not try to keep the other two in line but he recited his own lines as well as he could while the other two went about playing. The so-called play ended when the two youngest ones crawled onto the bed to bury their aunt or cousin in the case of Elinor because, in their shrieks, “Warm will make her better.”  


When Arya returned to the parlor once the children had been detached from Meera and half the adults returned to bed Edric, who was still pale, came to sit near Arya with her books. “I might think my lord that you do not wish for me to read as you interrupt every time I have a book in hand.”  


“I admit it does seem that way. But I assure my lady that I only interrupt you when we are together and I have an idea for an activity.”  


Arya glared at him for a moment before she smiled. “What activity did you have in mind?”  


“Oh, some simple observation really” Edric nodded in the direction of the pianoforte where Miss Lyanna was situated. She was not a particularly accomplished player though that could stem from having little time or interest in practicing. Rickon was standing very near to her and grinning while he sang with her. For what seemed like the first time he was singing his best. They were singing a love song.  


Arya nearly gasped, “I did not realize they would move so quickly.”  


Edric appeared unaffected. “Perhaps it’s their youth but neither of them strikes me as the sort of person who would pretend not to feel what they feel.”  


Arya’s eyes moved on from that couple to see another odd pair. Lady Baratheon was talking with Jon. It did not surprise her that they would speak with each other, however there was something in the lady’s manner that drew interest. She was leaning towards Jon, her blue eyes sparkling. Jon was aware of the lady’s intentions and leaned away from her, slightly. “I suppose it’s the summer air.”  


“Or perhaps it’s the close quarters.”  


Arya felt someone watching her. Gendry was on the other side of the room, sitting with Lady Jeyne Stark and reading a book. Arya caught him as his gaze dropped from her eyes back to the page.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Anyone? Bueller... Bueller... Bueller............................................... Bueller?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks within flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may get a tad heavy handed with symbolism and references at times.

_In 1813_  


Arya was sitting on the back steps of the cathedral putting the finishing touches on her dress for _Carnival_. She – or rather Fabia had been invited to join the Ricci party for the event. It was a cool day though it was not near as cold as it would have been were she still at Winterfell. _Winterfell_. Had she been home she might have been playing in the snow with Bran, making snowballs together which they would use to assault whoever stepped outside the house. But eventually they’d get too cold and tired and would make up an excuse to run back within the warm walls for neither of them would have been humble enough to admit that they were cold and tired. If they did not do that then at some point Jory or perhaps even their father would march out, dodge their snowballs as best he could, and catch whichever of them he could, carrying the victim back inside while the other child followed unless there were two men to catch the children in which case they would both be carried in like sacks of potatoes and deposited before their mother frozen and out of breath. They’d be put in hot baths, scrubbed raw, dried and dressed and given supper and dessert. Arya was startled by the splash of someone dropping their pole in the canal. She breathed in the late winter air and forced her thoughts elsewhere.  


Arya rarely allowed herself to recall memories of her old home and the family she’d had once. It was too painful and forbidden besides. She was not supposed to be Arya Stark anymore. She was not supposed to be anyone anymore.  


She turned back to the hem she’d been working on. The stitches were straight and small, just right. It had taken her twice as long to make them that way as it had Marina with the other gowns. It seemed that although she could discard her name and her history she still had Arya Stark’s fingers. The Kindly Man would be disappointed that she was still unable to rid herself of Arya’s ineptitude for sewing.  


The first few months after arriving in Venice had been hard. Her responsibilities had been nearly the same as her responsibilities as a servant of the French army although she had never needed to find or clean the dead in Donostia. In some ways her life had greatly improved upon arriving in Venice and becoming an initiate in the House of Black and White. She had been able to make the decision to go to Venice on her own and had not been forced to enter the House. She had never had such choices before. She was only beaten when she made a mistake while when she was on the Black Ship and in Donostia she might be attacked or beaten for any reason at all. She was learning new things all the time. Things that she would not have been allowed to learn while in London like thievery, lying, fishing, cooking, healing, languages – at home ladies would rarely be taught any language other than French or perhaps German and were often barred from studying Latin and Greek like their male counterparts. She had already learned French, Euskara, and Spanish. To those she added both the Venetian dialect of Italian and the Genoese and Portuguese. She picked up a little of other languages and dialects through the time she spent in the city. She had also been encouraged to begin studying Russian which would eventually lead to learning the Slavic languages. When she asked which languages were important for her to know she was given a backhanded slap because No One could speak any language so oughtn’t she learn them all?  


As she had progressed in her studies and service she had been given more responsibilities. She had spent time selling clams as an orphan girl. Had been a blind beggar on the street accompanied only by cats. She had been an actress for a failing troupe in a dilapidated theatre. After she had ruined her chances with the troupe by murdering a visiting guard, an old enemy of hers, she had been sent to serve as an apprentice to a seamstress where she was told she would learn how to sew well, how to run a business in a shop rather than selling her wares on a street. She had also gained some skills with patience and composure. It was those skills that had allowed her to stay on so long since Signora Giordano was always upset by how long it took Fabia to finish her work.  


The only reason she was going to be at Ricci’s _Carnival_ celebration was because she was sneaking in. Someone, Arya had not been told who, had paid dearly for Signora Sabbatini, a well-known opera singer, to die. She had spied on the lady for weeks while working at the shop and finished her gown only two days earlier.  


Arya checked the stitches of her own gown. It was black like most of the _Carnival_ costumes she’d seen and in a style that hadn’t been worn in decades. The silk outer dress was black with small golden acorns and oak leaves embroidered along the sleeves and hems. There might have even been one or two tiny golden wolves hidden in the oak leaves on her skirt. Anything was possible. There were no gaps or wrinkles in her work and Arya deemed the gown ready for wear. Arya set it back down and watched a man sail past in his gondola, the fog swirling around him. One of the three black dogs that had taken to following her around lifted his head and growled at the gondolier until she shushed him.  


The night of the _Carnival_ celebration arrived with haste and Arya hid her mask under her cloak as _Carnival_ attire was not permitted on the street and made her way to the Ricci’s. She slid the mask over her face in the darkness just before entering the house.  


Within it was dark. There were a few lamps along the walls and a chandelier in one of the rooms but there was no other light. The décor seemed to have been chosen to absorb light in fact. Arya moved from room to room, hunting her prey. It would be rather easy to slip the poison into Signora Sabbatini’s wine. The darkness would only help her. But the tapestries that covered the walls, the heavy curtains, the carpets and sofas absorbed sound and there was a general chatter. Arya needed to _hear_ her victim as the mask the lady was wearing was common. She could not afford to poison the wrong glass.  


The night wore on and Arya had yet to find Sabbatini. With the costumes, wigs, perfumes, and especially the masks it was hard to tell one woman from another but with patience Arya was sure of success. Unless she had not come to the party? That was unlikely as she had been well the last time Arya saw her and Arya had not heard anything to suggest she would not be present. So Arya moved from the red room to the black, the last of the six chambers. Signora Sabbatini was there, her sharp laughter was unmistakable. Arya walked in and went to examine the refreshments while she eavesdropped. She ate a ripe pomegranate, which must have been grown in a hothouse, while she waited for her chance.  


It did not take long for the poison to take effect. It was a perfect death, one that the Kindly Man would be proud of if No One could feel pride. Arya walked calmly out of the house and threw her mask in the canal. She took a moment to breathe in the scent of the city. The mixture of salt and fish that was so different from the smell of Winterfell. Pine sap, hay and horses, baking bread, sheep in the pasture, old books in the library, the milky soap they all washed with, the smell of Gendry’s sweet, hot sweat mixed with woodsmoke. Arya wrinkled her nose, Gendry’s sweat was _not_ part of Winterfell. She would not think about him, she’d promised herself she’d never think about that stupid bull ever again.  


Arya hastened to the docks, the ship was leaving with the tide and Arya could not afford to be late. It had taken her months to save and steal the coin for the passage. She supposed she could have travelled over land but that was not fast enough, not safe enough. If what she’d learned about the servants of the dark god were true she did not want to leave them excuse to hunt her or means to find her.  


Arya stood on the deck rather than hide in her cabin. She wanted to see Venice one last time as she did not plan on ever returning to the city. It was a beautiful place despite the fog that lay over it. The pale red and brown stones of the old city were gradually lit by the rising sun as Arya’s ship made its way out into the Adriatic.  


One night not long into her journey Arya was sitting on deck. The stars were bright overhead and the air was beginning to warm. She felt the stupid carved bull that she’d hidden in her cloak along with what few other possessions she still had. That bull and needle were the only things she’d kept from her time before going to Venice. She still didn’t understand why she’d kept it. The thing was roughly carved and Gendry never liked her anyway.  


Stupid Gendry. Arya remembered the last time she’d seen him. She’d decided to steal one of the little boats and row herself to shore, it may not have been the best of plans but she would not be sold for anyone’s profit. She was in the midst of untying the boat, ready to climb down into it as that was smarter than jumping right into the water. There were sharks about and jumping in would make too much noise anyway. As she was about to climb over the side of the rail, clinging to the rope a large hand closed around her arm, pulling her back. “What do you think you’re doing?” Gendry demanded in an angry whisper.  


“I’m leaving.”  


“No you’re not.”  


“Yes I am. I’m not an object to be sold.”  


He’d glared at her, “You’re not being sold.”  


“They’re going to demand payment for me, that’s selling.”  


“You could think of it as payment for them keeping you safe and putting in the effort to return you.”  


Arya scoffed. “It’s selling and I’m not going to be sold.”  


“Arya,” she couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark though the stars sparkled over his head, “this is dangerous. You don’t know where we are, you could run out of food or water, you could get swept out to sea. If you’re going to run why not do it once we get to port?”  


Arya glared up at him, “I can handle myself.”  


“No you can’t you’re a little girl.”  


“I am not!”  


“Yes you are, you need someone to help you.”  


“Well,” Arya paused, “you could always come with me.”  


“And why would I do that?”  


“Why not? We’re friends, we always work well together, and we’ve been together for years. Years longer than you’ve known any of these men.”  


He shook his head, “I thought I was too lowborn to be your friend.”  


“ _What?_ When have I ever said anything like that.”  


“Remember the brothel?”  


“I said I wasn’t you’re sister and I’m not!”  


He ignored her, she guessed he was rolling his eyes. “These men have never once treated me like I’m less than them. You have. I’m staying here.”  


Arya didn’t try to conceal the bitterness she felt. “And what exactly does staying accomplish for you? By staying with them you’ll be made a criminal. You’ll hang for it one day and I don’t want one of my friends to hang.”  


“I’m free here.”  


“You’re not and you know it.”  


“But I _chose_ to be here Arya. I chose this life. I never got to choose before.”  


“Well neither have I and _I_ choose to leave.”  


“Fine then,” he said, letting go of her arm.  


“Fine.”  


Arya had started down the rope when Gendry leaned over the side, she looked up at him, “Are you coming now?”  


“I never said I’d make this easy for you Lady Stark,” he said then he stood up straight and yelled “The lady’s escaping!”  


Arya cursed and moved quickly down the rope ladder, leaping as lightly as she could into the little rowboat which she still had to untie before she could get away. Her blood pounded in her ears and her fingers trembled. She could hear shouts and the sound of men running around the ship. Arya grasped the oars and rowed, throwing all her strength into it. She was swallowed by the darkness.  


***************

 _The present_  


“Arya!” Rickon was snapping his fingers near her face. She’d fallen asleep against the window of the carriage. Meera snickered in her seat across from Arya.  


“Why’d you have to wake me up?” Arya asked her baby brother and poked him in the ribs.  


“We’re entering White Harbor now,” he replied and pointed out the window Arya had been snoring on.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Oliver Twist voice* Please sir, can I have some comments?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks visit White Harbor and Edric has something to tell Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's such a short chapter

The Manderly’s home in White Harbor was just large enough to fit all of their guests. Their guests being the Starks. Other friends and acquaintances such as Lord Dayne found lodging elsewhere in the town. The house was not overlarge nor was it cramped and it was clean and pretty. In nearly every way resembling the town in which it was situated.  


On the third day in town the family departed on an excursion to a nearby beach. Sansa gasped loudly when she reached the top of the hill, Arya just behind her. The view was beautiful. Below them stretched miles of sand dunes which were dotted with patches of beach grass which eventually levelled out into a beach which met the deep blue sea. It was early in the day but it was surprisingly clear and warm. They all made their way down led by the Manderly sisters. Arya hung back from the main group and carried little Elinor. Bran brought up the rear, struggling with his cane and Meera held onto his arm.  


“Do you want me to make them slow down?” Arya asked him.  


“No, no need to spoil their fun.” he said.  


“It won’t spoil anything.”  


“I’ve learned to enjoy going slowly Arya.”  


He waved her off and they caught up with the rest of the group within a few minutes.  


They were cautious about picnicking after the incident with the pigeon pie and so had only brought food that was unlikely to poison anyone such as bread, cheese, and fruit. The half of the group that had had the worst of the poisoning elected to return to town for their luncheon. While they were gone Arya took a walk along the beach with Lord Dayne.  


They made sure to stay in sight of the others, on the edge of the beach nearest the water but on the far side of the shells that had been washed onto the shore. Arya occasionally stooped to pick one up if it looked promising. “It is a lovely day is it not Lady Arya?” Edric began.  


Arya gazed at the deep blue waves that were tipped with white where they crested. “It certainly is my lord.”  


“Should I be jealous? You prefer looking at the sea to looking at me.”  


“Why should I want to look at you?”  


He glanced down at her “If other people are to be believed I’m the apple of your eye.”  


Arya laughed, “Is that what they think?”  


“It’s what I’ve heard,” he was nonchalant though Arya guessed there was something else on his mind. Her waiting paid off after a few minutes. “I suppose I should have told you that I’m engaged.”  


“You are?”  


“I am, have been for some time actually.” He seemed to be rather nervous and was watching his feet rather than the scenery.  


“May I ask who the lucky lady is?”  


He shook his head “You don’t know her. Anyway I suppose I should have told you weeks ago but we get on so well and I never intended for us to be anything more than good friends.”  


“And that’s exactly what we’ve been Neddy, good friends. But tell me, why did you think you needed to explain yourself now?”  


“Yesterday when we were exploring the grounds of Newcastle your sister met me in the garden. She asked me what my intentions were towards you and whether or not I was attached to any other ladies. I think she might have caught wind of my engagement and was testing me.”  


“She ought not to have done that, I can take care of myself.”  


“Perhaps but that won’t stop your family from wanting to protect you, it’s what family does after all.”  


Arya sighed and tugged at the sleeve of her blue woolen jacket. “I do believe I should ask, if you’re engaged then you certainly didn’t come to Scotland to see me. If that is the case then why did you come here?”  


“To meet your brother since we’re peers.”  


“Ah,” Arya said, “so your visit was purely political.”  


“I’m afraid so. Though getting to spend so much time with an old friend was a great reward for my political efforts.”  


They walked on until they reached the base of a high cliff and then turned back. Sometimes they chatted and sometimes they walked in companionable silence. Arya was not particularly surprised that Edric had found a wife and although she was fond of him she found she was not upset by his revelation. She had never considered herself to be in love with him in the first place.  


By the time they returned to their group the rest of the party had returned from luncheon. Though there was a more interesting sight in a barefooted Bran helping the little ones to build a miniature Winterfell in the sand. Sansa was kneeling beside him, fixing mistakes and weaving the panes for the hothouses out of blades of beach grass. The two of them were busy bickering over what exactly went where and how they ought to make the trees in the Gods’ Wood. Uncle Edmure removed the children from the project and set them to building their own castle away from their cousins whose argument was growing increasingly heated.  


“How can you expect to raise children of your own someday when your husband is practically a child himself,” Arya asked her sister in law, feigning an air of authority.  


Meera grinned, “Do you hear that Your Grace?” she shot at her husband. “Play nice with your sister or you’ll be going without supper.”  


That made them all laugh. Arya knelt in the sand beside her brother and sister to help build their sand castle. Rickon and Meera entertained themselves with attempting to skip rocks on the waves which did not work well. They then set about combing the beach for the prettiest shells and observing the scenery. The other families did nearly the same though both groups were more apt to wet their feet in the water the Starks seemed wary of.  


“Are you sure he’s engaged?” Sansa asked. She’d come into Arya’s room just after putting Baby Ned to bed.  


“He told me earlier today.”  


Sansa took the brush from Arya’s hand and worked her hair out of its mess. “And are you… upset?”  


“No, why would I be?”  


“I thought you were attached.”  


“We’re friends and I believe I could love him if I decided to,” Arya admitted, “But he is in love with someone else.”  


“Well as long as you’re alright,” Sansa shrugged and carefully brushed the knots out of Arya’s hair.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expect to post at least two more chapters tomorrow (or is that today now? huh)  
> What did you think?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things happen that aren't necessarily related to each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter and not a lot happens but we are gearing up for the finale.

The day after Edric confessed his engagement to Arya he took His Grace the Duke of Winterfell aside for a long talk of political nature before departing for his home in the south. Arya was sorry to see him go but soon forgot any sadness she’d felt, going to prove that she was not attached to Edric as some people may have believed.  


With Edric out of the way Lord Westerling seemed to take it as a sign of his good fortune and he began to spend more time with Lady Arya. He told her of his valorous deeds in battle, his home called The Crag in Cornwall, and of his service with her brother. His knowledge of Robb’s final days was the only thing Arya enjoyed about his monologues. “It brings me comfort to know more about what happened to Robb. I hated not knowing anything” Arya told her sister when she came to speak with Arya about her latest suitor after supper one evening.  


There was but one other event of note while the Starks and a few of their friends were visiting in White Harbor. One day shortly after luncheon an old acquaintance came to visit the Manderly home, that man being one Jaime Lannister. While Colonel Lannister was still a wealthy man and had maintained his peerage he had spent the past few years far and away from the public eye. It was especially odd that he should visit the Starks who had been his enemies for so many years.  


Because neither the duke himself nor her elder sister were disposed to meet with the man, Bran was officially occupied by a discussion with his wife – though Arya had seen in the moment she’d opened the door that they were both only half dressed, disheveled and red faced, and that her brother had his wife’s bare feet in his hands. Sansa was busy with her son though she sent her regrets downstairs with her sister. It was left to Arya to see what the Colonel’s visit was about.  


He stood and bowed when Arya entered the room. “My lady, I hope I am not intruding much on your family’s time or your friend’s hospitality.”  


“It has been many years since I’ve seen you Colonel. I wonder why you should come to see us?” Arya began.  


“Well,” he said “Since you are clearly not one for frivolous conversation I will be brief. I came to visit because I heard that your party included an old friend of mine, a Lady Tarth. I had hoped to see her. Is she here?”  


Arya was surprised as she had never heard anything about Colonel Lannister from the lady before. “She is in town but the Manderlys did not have room for us and all of our friends. She’s lodging with a different family.”  


“May I have the address?”  


She gave it to him and he left with very little conversation following. “An odd visit though I do not regret not keeping him longer. What do you think this was about?” Arya asked her sister after the man had left.  


Sansa sighed a little, “Brienne has mentioned him to me a few times, it seems they were companions for a time a few years ago and she grew to care for him. I do not know how deep those feelings run but it would seem that the Colonel may have some romantic feelings toward her if he is in such a hurry to see her.”  


The Starks were not privy to the events of Colonel Lannister’s visit to Lady Tarth and whatever Sansa learned she did not share.  


The Starks returned to Winterfell after a little more than a week at White Harbor. Though Arya was sad to leave the town she was happier to return home. She took the children to hunt blackberries in the woods. She was pulling a thorn out of little Edmure’s finger, berating him gently for removing his gloves, when she thought she heard a cry from the nearby path. A woman’s crying rather than the childrens’. Lady Tully heard the sound too and they both saw the shape of a rather tall woman hurrying down the path. Arya went to check who it was and saw the unmistakable raven black hair of Lady Baratheon.  


Arya followed the girl cautiously, worried that she might be on the verge of doing something desperate. “My lady,” Arya said cautiously after they’d passed the blackberry grove by, “may I ask what’s wrong?”  


She sighed and wiped at her eyes. “You can call me Shireen, it’s easier that way.”  


“Alright then may I ask what’s wrong, Shireen?” Arya asked, catching up with the taller woman.  


“I suppose you know that I was… interested in your cousin as a potential suitor. He’s always been very kind to me and with my face the only men who have ever pursued me have only been after my family’s lands and fortune. I thought that if anyone was to show interest in me for myself it might be your cousin.”  


Arya nodded encouragingly, she’d seen Shireen’s attempts herself.  


“I never said anything but I suppose I was too obvious in my efforts to increase his affections towards me because this morning as I was taking a walk through the garden he accompanied me. At first I thought that he was interested in courting me but on our walk he told me that” and here Shireen screwed up her face to mimic Jon’s “he thinks of me as another little sister and would appreciate it if I left him alone.”  


“Ah, I’m sorry he did that to you.”  


Shireen shook her head, “At least he’s honest.”  


There was little that Arya could do to comfort Shireen. Sansa had a great deal more comfort to give due to her once having been in a similar situation. “If you just wait I’m certain you’ll meet someone who cares for you and not just your inheritance. Perhaps I know someone?” And despite Shireen’s protests at having Sansa arrange a potential match for her Arya could tell that her sister was thinking of options.  


Though Shireen was clearly saddened by Jon’s preemptive rejection of her she recovered and within the week she had joined Arya and the other ladies in their activities with high spirits. Arya also knew that Sansa had gone on to create a list of potential suitors for Shireen though Arya was unsure just what her sister was going to do with the list.  


While the Manderlys had remained in Newcastle the Starks still had the Mormont ladies for frequent visitors. Whenever the ladies came to visit them Rickon used it as an excuse to spend time with Lyanna. Even Arya wondered whether or not Rickon had asked for her hand.  


It was when Arya visited the Gods’ Wood on a golden July evening that she caught her baby brother deep in conversation with Lyanna. “When should we tell them?” Lyanna was asking him.  


Arya stood still, trying to decide whether or not to alert them to her presence. “We’ll tell them tonight I suppose though honestly I’d rather just leave them a letter. I can’t stand for anyone to stop us.”  


“But then how would we live? It’s not as if you have your own money, it’s all dependent on your brother.”  


“I know Lya.” Rickon held her shoulders, “that’s why we’re not running off.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I brand myself a liar because I will NOT be posting tomorrow, Dec 24th because between cleaning, baking, caroling, the family party, and other family traditions I'm not going to have any time for writing or editing. I should post at least one chapter on Christmas and possibly a Gendrya one-shot I've been working on for a while. We'll see what happens. So have a Merry Christmas guys! If you don't celebrate Christmas then just have a good Monday/Tuesday.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickon has an announcement, Brienne answers a call, Lord Westerling has something to ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We should all be grateful that I chose to google Scottish climate in 1816 before I wrote this chapter otherwise I would've gotten called out for historical inaccuracy in the comments and I don't want that.

Arya had kept quiet for two days, watching her baby brother's behavior with suspicion before he got up the courage to speak with his elder brother. Arya waited in the drawing room, slowly working on a drawing of the west garden, for more than an hour before Rickon left the study grinning like a boy who'd just slipped a frog into his sister's shoe. Arya chased him down, “May I ask what you’re grinning about?” she asked when she caught him.  


“I’ll tell you later,” he whined.  


“But I want to know now,” Arya said, blocking the hall as well as he could.  


“Later,” he said and barreled past her.  


Arya shouted an insult after him, which earned a hard look from one of the maids and a mild scolding from Sansa.  


It had been unusually cold that summer. Despite the occasional good day and pleasant, or unpleasant, outing for the most part the Starks and their guests had spent most of their time inside. Bran, due to his old injuries, was often in pain thanks to the cold and damp which allowed him to spend a good deal of extra time shut up in his study or his bedchamber though Arya knew that he was more likely in his wife’s bedchamber as her now frequent illness forced her to remain in bed more often. The absence of her brother and sister-in-law, along with Rickon’s frequent disappearances left Arya in the company of her sister and the little children more often than not.  


Arya was playing with the children after supper when Rickon consented to make his announcement. He pulled Lyanna away from her sisters and called for attention. “As you may have guessed, I’ve asked Miss Lyanna for her hand in marriage –”  


“– And I’ve consented to give it to him,” Lyanna interrupted.  


Rickon raised a hand to stop their congratulations and waved off Uncle Benjen who had come forward to speak with him. “We have more news.”  


Suspicious glances were cast about for what sort of news could they have. “I have attained my brother’s blessing to emigrate to the former colonies come spring.”  


A wave of relief at the young couple’s not having shamed themselves, confusion at their decision, and fear for them passed through the group. “Emigrating?” Sansa appeared to have taken ill.  


“Yes, Sansa” Rickon’s voice was soft now.  


“Why though, why would you need to leave us? You’ll be safe here. You could live comfortable here or you could let a house nearby. You’ve a large enough allowance for that.” Sansa was near tears and working hard to conceal them.  


Rickon sighed and put a hand on his sister’s shoulder, “Can we discuss this later?”  


Sansa wiped angrily at her eyes and sniffed, “Of course.” She turned and was nearly to her seat again before she rushed back to congratulate the happy couple.  


The next morning Rickon explained himself to his eldest sister. When she returned to her regular activities her eyes were bloodshot and she sniffled on occasion but no one dared to point out these imperfections in her behavior.  


There was a minor commotion a few days later when Lady Tarth, whom Arya had never gotten to know well despite living in close proximity for the last few months, departed for England. It was as she was preparing to leave that Arya discovered that the lady was leaving to marry Colonel Lannister. “What do you mean she’s in love with that, that villain?” Arya asked her sister in hushed tones after the lady had departed. She’d never allowed herself to think about her dislike for the colonel before, as she preferred not to remember the Lannister clan at all.  


Sansa sighed at her sister’s outburst, “Brienne knows him much better than you or I Arya. And she loves him, he appears to love her. Whatever the case she is of age and we are not her guardians.”  


Arya grumbled about one-handed, gold-plated, villainous officers for the next day before she moved on from the incident. As Sansa had said, it was none of their concern.  


What was Arya’s concern was the attentions of Lord Westerling. One afternoon after a few weeks of his attempts at wooing he confronted Arya in the drawing room. He’d entered the room and shut the door. “My lady,” he said, “I am glad to catch you alone. If I may take a moment of your time?” Arya did not know what to say so she indicated she would listen. “My lady, I am sure you are aware of my intentions toward yourself. That is I hope that that you will accept my offer of marriage. I am well situated in The Crag and my house in London ought to be to your liking.”  


Lord Westerling continued to recommend himself to Arya for the better part of half an hour before she stopped him. “My lord, while I appreciate your many virtues and find you to be an amiable and genteel person with which to spend time in good company I am afraid I cannot accept your offer of marriage.”  


His face tightened, “May I ask why not?”  


“Well, my lord, I am certain you know of my own position in life and the allowance I am given through inheritance. I believe those facts along with my relation to the duke of Winterfell are your primary motivations for proposing to me. Especially considering that in all your efforts to gain my attention and affection these past few weeks you have spent all your time speaking of yourself. Your interests, your situation, your home. You’ve rarely asked for my opinions or my values. While I respect you based on your friendship with my late brother, your bravery in battle, and the care you show for your sister these qualities alone would not motivate me to accept your offer.”  


“May I ask what would motivate you to accept me?”  


“Love.”  


He sputtered, “Love? My lady love can grow later. Marriage – especially among men and women of our station – has naught to do with love. Would not your brother appreciate connections among his peers? Would your family not wish to see you taken care of and given a respectable position in society? Would you not wish to have greater wealth than the few thousand a year you’ve been allowed, considering what you are used to living on? Would you not wish for children and companionship rather than taking the chance that your brother and sister-in-law will allow you to keep living with them indefinitely, leeching off their generosity and potentially corrupting their children with your often uncouth mannerisms?”  


Arya breathed slowly the way she’d been taught in her fencing lessons, clearing her head, before she responded. “If you feel such contempt for me and doubt my respectability then why, pray tell, are you asking for my hand in marriage? Do not speak to me of what my family wants or does not want for me, you do not know any of them well enough to tell me what they would wish. As for myself, I know what I want and what I am used to far better than you and I thank you to not bother me with your offers or your insults again.” Arya marched to the door and turned back to the red-faced man in the center of the room, “Good day” she snapped before rushing to the sanctuary of the Gods’ Wood.  


Sansa listened to Arya’s story with a frown. “If I am honest Harry was not much better than that when we first met, but he has mellowed.”  


“I’m not changing my mind just because a different man has recovered from his pride.”  


“True,” Sansa said and she continued stitching. “Perhaps you should not tell our brothers of this incident. It may be best to let Lord Westerling leave Winterfell with his pride and his body intact. I do not wish for there to be a rift in parliament because one lord was rejected by another’s sister. Worse, we don’t want Jon to kill him for making a few slights at you in a moment of anger.”  


“Do you think Jon will duel him?” Arya asked, propping her head off the pillow for a moment.  


“Did you already tell him about this?” Sansa said with a sigh.  


Arya looked away pointedly. “He found me in the Gods’ Wood. He and Rickon may be planning their retribution as we speak.”  


“Well in that case I have lives to save,” her sister groaned and fled the room.  


Sansa interrupted their brothers, cousin, and uncles in the middle of a consultation in Bran’s study. They assured her that none of them were going to escalate the matter to a duel and that Lady Westerling had already spoken to the duchess about departing in the morning. Sansa left the men with a stern warning against duels and returned to her sister’s side.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think the men were lying about duel plans?  
> You could give me comments for a birthday present since I missed the Christmas window and my birthday is in a few days.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya confronts Gendry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this didn't get up earlier but the internet was down all day yesterday (thank you oligopolic cable industry) then there were some other obstacles to writing today.

“You know you really ought to just tell everyone the truth,” Arya said while she helped Meera back into bed one August morning after the duchess had to be excused from breakfast to be sick. “You’re starting to show.”  


Meera sighed and frowned at the little bump on her lower stomach, “It’s not _that_ obvious.”  


Arya laughed, “Oh yes it is. Or at least it is under your nightdress.”  


“Is she alright? Meera are you alright?” Bran’s voice was just behind Arya’s head, she was so startled she nearly knocked him over but caught his arm on his way to the carpet.  


“I’m quite well, it’s just the baby making me ill – again” Meera groaned.  


“I’ve asked you to go more gently time and again. You could have broken your fast in bed and instead you insist on going down to join with everyone else and it makes you ill.”  


Meera sighed, “I’d have been ill whether I stayed here or no. Besides, I thought you wanted to keep the little one to ourselves for a few weeks more, if I’d suddenly begun taking breakfast in bed and being ill every morning people might get suspicious.”  


Bran huffed and went to lean over her, brushing the hair from her face and muttering intimacies that were not meant for Arya’s ears. “I’ll leave you two alone then,” Arya said and left the room.  


Arya wandered out from the shelter of Winterfell’s walls to take a walk. It was a cold day and the heather and thistles that had managed to bloom shuddered in the wind. Arya remained near the house and in paths that provided some shelter in case she should get caught in the rain. She pulled her heavy woolen jacket closer and shuddered.  


Arya stopped on a high hillside to look out over the moors before heading back to the house. “This is surely terrible for the crops,” Arya muttered. Many crops were failing thanks to the cold and cloudy weather. Even so, Arya could not say that the view was not lovely still, if only in a dark way. The clouds piled high in towers and terraces and Arya could see far-off fields being lashed with rain. _A terrible beauty_.  


“My lady, you should not be out in this weather” a gruff voice called from behind her.  


Arya braced herself and turned. Gendry looked his brightest that morning which was to say that he looked irritated. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself Captain” she half-shouted at him.  


“And yet you’re standing out here in a storm.”  


“It’s not storming yet and I was on my way back to the house just now.”  


Gendry harrumphed and shook his head. “A wiser lady might have seen the state of the clouds and remained indoors all the same. Better to not risk being caught in the rain.”  


“Did you come out here to collect me then?” Arya asked as she descended towards him.  


He glowered, “No. I was out for a walk myself.”  


“Then you’ve no business reprimanding me for enjoying the fresh air before a storm.” They stood still and stared obstinately at each other for a few moments. Arya tried to think of something else to say. He’d seemed to like her, once, and there was a part of her that still longed to the gleam in his eyes when he used to tease her. That sentimentality drove her to broach what she was sure would be a difficult subject. “Weather aside, I’m sorry Lady Westerling left Winterfell. It was not my intention to upset your courtship when I rejected her brother’s advances.”  


Gendry frowned, “I was not courting the lady, only keeping her company at times.”  


“Well to everyone else it looked like you were courting her. I heard several conversations that involved speculation on when you would propose to her.”  


“Well they were wrong.”  


Arya shook her head in annoyance and started down the path towards Winterfell, their arms brushing against each other as she marched past him. She heard Gendry groan behind her, “I believe it would be improper for me to just leave you alone in this weather.”  


“Why do you insist on following me now Captain when for years you only followed because I made you?”  


“I followed you because if I had not you would have found some way to get yourself killed.”  


Arya scoffed, “I am alive and well in case you have not noticed Captain, and no thanks to you.”  


Thunder sounded nearby and Arya hurried down the path. Gendry followed doggedly.  


They had walked for several minutes in irritable silence before Gendry chose to open his mouth again. “One might think my lady,” he said, his voice booming in the hedgerows, “that a woman as noble born as you would have no issue with being courted by and even married to a noble man with a large and ancient home in the warm south who can offer her status and comfort for herself and her children.”  


Arya grit her teeth and walked faster to get away from the incorrigible man who was nearly chasing her down the path. “A man being of noble birth, having a great house, and a small fortune is not a reason for entering into a marriage sir.”  


“And what, may I ask, is a reason my lady?”  


“Love.”  


“Love?” Gendry stopped walking for a few moments to stare at Arya incredulously then he rumbled “Only a noblewoman could use that as a reason.”  


“Perhaps you are right Captain but having that small privilege does not make me wish to obligate myself to a marriage I do not want.”  


“Yes well I thought you believed yourself to be the same as everyone else and yet –”  


Arya stopped walking and turned to face Gendry, “And yet what? You could never let go of your false sense of inferiority nor will you ever release this notion that I feel or believe that I am superior to everyone else. I do not believe myself to be truly better than anyone else in this world. Am I to condemn myself to an unhappy marriage because other women may have no better choice in life so why should I? When instead I could make choices that make me happy and do my best to help others up to a place where they can also make choices.” Arya felt cold rain splatter on her face.  


Gendry was silent, seething. The rain fell faster around them, swallowing them.  


Arya breathed deeply to steady herself and leveled her gaze on Gendry’s face. “You keep doing this Gendry. Every time we talk to each other you become angry with me for the audacity of my birth. You told me once that you could not control your being a bastard and an orphan, that you had no choices in your life because society bars bastards and orphans from gaining education or status. Of course you would not care to hear of how being a duke’s daughter and more importantly a woman in a society that has only a very narrow course for women to follow limited my choices. Yes I spent my earliest years in relative comfort in a great house with strong walls and a full belly and people who loved me, though I did not often feel it, while you did not. But do not berate me for taking advantage of the few options that I have. After all you’ve managed to remove yourself from a life of crime or servitude into a naval captain, one who’s well off enough to let a manse for the summer and spend your time in the company of lords and ladies.”  


The bright stubbornness of a bull was etched in Gendry’s face “And yet you always looked down on me. For the years that we were together you were never cowed into submission like the rest of us.”  


“I seem to recall you being stubborn as the bull you are often enough. When did you ever submit to the whims of those above you?”  


“Every day Arya!” he snapped. “Every damned day no matter how much I hated it I kept my head down and I did what was asked of me because I’ve seen what happens to those who disobey. Just because I am stubborn and stupid like a bull – which is what you always liked to call me m’lady – does not mean I am stupid enough to think I could stand against my betters, no one would allow for me to do that. And yes I’ve managed to build myself up to a respectable place in the world no thanks to you or anyone else. But do not try to tell me that your peers have ever seen me as being their equal. Even you still look down on me, in fact I believe you look down on me more now than you did when we were children.”  


“What? Of course I don’t look down on you.”  


“Oh yes you do. I kept company with Lady Westerling or Stark or whatever her proper name is more than anyone else because she treated me better than the rest of you. And you all look down on her for being some sort of fallen woman because she eloped with your own brother when she was young. You especially seemed to dislike her.”  


“I did not,” Arya protested. She resolved to never tell him the true reason for her dislike of her brother’s widow, a reason she was only beginning to understand as the rain soaked through her gray woolen jacket while she stared into Gendry’s deep blue eyes. Deep as the open sea.  


“Yes you did I saw your furtive glances, your jealous looks. You always seemed to be thinking about how awful it was that such a lady, one who had besmirched her name and then been widowed was taking a place in your home and taking time with me because you always seemed to feel ownership of me like I really was some stupid bull.”  


Arya stared open-mouthed, searching for an answer like a fish gulping water. “I do not hate Jeyne, and I never looked down on her. Gendry I –” Arya’s quickly made iron resolve crumbled, “Gendry I _loved_ you. I made you go everywhere with me when we were children because I was in love with you before I even understood what that meant. I called you names and told you what to do because I was, perhaps mistakenly, trying to keep you safe or to make you love me back because I was a stupid little girl who did not understand how to let anyone love her aside from my brothers, they were always easy. I was upset with Jeyne because she was taking time with you and it looked like you were courting her. Perhaps whatever’s left of that younger Arya made me jealous of her because you were supposed to love me and be mine and instead you liked her and couldn’t speak to me without saying something awful.”  


Gendry stared dumbfounded at her. Thunder rumbled above them and Arya heard the crack of lightning nearby. The rain fell in sheets over them which made Arya feel like she was drowning.  


“You love me?” Gendry’s voice nearly squeaked. Arya had learned to read faces well once but it was dark in the path, he looked disbelieving, maybe disgusted, she could not tell. Gendry was shaking his head, “We know well enough that considering my station in life and yours we should not even be friends.”  


“Do you think I care? Even if that were true – which it isn’t – I can be friends with whomever I please.”  


“Arya, your family would never approve of us being good friends. They could never possibly approve of us getting married if it were to come to that.”  


“You don’t know my family, even if one of them were to turn their noses at you they’d come round eventually. Jon will like you if you spend more time together, Bran too. Rickon is emigrating but he’ll like you well enough if you talk to him which leaves Sansa and if she disapproved it would not matter.”  


Gendry shook his head “No, they already dislike me but if I were to try courting you they would surely come for my head.”  


“Gendry you don’t know them. I do.”  


“It does not matter Arya, even if they did like me as you claim they will the rest of your peers will not.”  


“Do you think I care about some dusty lord’s opinion on my choices?”  


“You might not care at this moment but you may care in the future. Loving me is not wise Arya.”  


Arya shook her head, he did not understand. “You cannot tell the future Gendry. If you love me as much as I have loved you I believe we can survive a few lords we do not know being snobbish.”  


Gendry shook his head and kept shaking it, “It doesn’t matter if I love you or not. Feelings change Arya.”  


Arya could not bear his obstinance, she stepped forward and latched onto his coat. “Don’t you love me Gendry?” She asked him, shaking him as best she could. The tears came before she could stop them, burning her throat and she buried her face in his soaking, scratchy coat. When he pushed her off as gently as he could sank into the mud to cry alone. Gendry pulled her into his arms and carried her back to the house, soaked and chilled to the bone before he fled.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?  
> I'll accept comments as birthday presents


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya mopes

Arya coughed violently into her handkerchief before rolling her head back to press against the window. She stared out at the rain, a glaze over her eyes. She had a mild fever from the chill she took in the rain. It was not so bad as it could be though it was enough to make the other women fuss over her like cats with a still-blind kitten. Arya had not told anyone why she had stayed out in the rain or why it was that Gendry had had to carry her back to the house while she sobbed. At first Sansa had feared someone must have died or why would her sister have taken such a fit but when Gendry assured her that no such thing had happened the household was left to wonder. Only Jon suspected at the truth but he had not been allowed into Arya’s room to ask her.  


Arya stared passively at the dim outline of the trees outside, her cheek cold from leaning on the glass. She was so angry with herself for what she’d said. “Why must I be such a fool,” she moaned. “Such a stupid little girl who thinks that that bull could love her back. And mayhaps he is right and if he chose to love me back and we married that I would eventually regret it. He’d make me regret it with his stupidity I’m sure and yet I love him all the same.”  


The door creaked when it opened and Arya lifted her head a little to see who was entering the room. “Are you feeling any better?” Sansa asked. When Arya refused to answer, instead glibly turning back to stare out the window again Sansa went to feel Arya’s forehead, she frowned. “You are still warm, perhaps you should get back in bed.”  


“I don’t want to,” Arya mumbled.  


Sansa gave Arya a look that reminded her so much of their mother she might have screamed if she cared more or if she were afraid of ghosts. Sansa forced her sister away from the window and into her bed, covered her with blankets and setting a cool, damp cloth on her head before she blew out the candles and left the room. Arya was too tired and sullen to climb back out of bed and so accepted the change with indifference.  


Even after the fever subsided and Arya was marched out of her room and back into the company of her family and their guests, which had dwindled down to only the Baratheons. Arya was not good company that evening and soon exiled herself to the library as the rain continued to hammer against the roof.  


Winterfell’s library was very large and very old. Over the years many a Stark had taken to collecting old books and even occasionally ancient scrolls written in languages that were no longer spoken or at least that were not spoken by English nobility. There were graceful columns and most of the windows were shuttered to keep what little sunlight that might deign to shine on the building out. The huge room smelled of dust and paper and was pleasantly silent. When they were children if Sansa was not dutifully studying with their governess or doing whatever tasks their mother had set her, such as learning to sew, she could be found in the library with her nose buried in whatever novel their father had bought for her recently. Eddard Stark had trusted his daughter to remain unaffected by the issues that many men feared would plague women who read novels.   


Arya had never been quite so fond of stories as Sansa or Bran but she found the library to be a perfect refuge on that gloomy evening. It had been five days since she had told Gendry that she loved him. She wandered among the shelves listlessly; occasionally picking up books and sitting them back down after only leafing through a few pages. She finally pulled open the curtains that covered one long window that overlooked the northern hills. The hills that appeared to march into the mountains in the distance. She settled in one of the armchairs that was set about the room, wrapped a shawl around herself and stared at the rain as she had for the past few days since shaming herself.  


She was not left in her refuge for long before someone saw fit to interrupt her. Arya looked up and glared at Jon as he made his way through the dusty shelves to pull a different chair towards hers. He sat and stared at her, hands clasped in front of him. They both waited in silence for the other to break it. Jon sighed, relenting. “Arya, may I ask what is the matter with you?”  


She gave him a cold stare, “You may ask.”  


“Alright, what is the matter? Why were you out in the rain with one Captain Waters needing to rescue you and why have you been sulking these past few days?”  


She shrugged slightly “I was taking a walk and ran into Gendry. We quarreled.”  


Jon was not to be put off by her reticence, “What did you quarrel about?”  


“I told him I loved him” Arya tasted the bitterness in her mouth.  


“Oh,” Jon raised an eyebrow, “I suspected as much. I take it your confession did not end well.”  


“It did not.”  


“Is there anything else you would like to tell me?” Jon prompted. “Do I need to challenge our neighbor to a duel?”  


Arya groaned, “Don’t do that Jon it will only make things worse. And I suppose Gendry was correct when he said we could never be happy together.”  


“Is that what he said?”  


Arya chewed her lip, “not in those words but he insisted that my family would never accept him and that even if you did our peers would not and that eventually it would wear on me and I would end up hating him.”  


“And would you?” Jon asked. Arya appreciated his quiet persistence.  


“I don’t know Jon. Perhaps he is right but I do not think so.”  


“Were those his only objections to your love?”  


“No, he also refused to say that he loves me as well. So even if our family would embrace him and our peers would overlook the match Gendry does not care for me as I do for him and it does not matter.” She turned her face back towards the window. The rain and the wind continued to lash at the greenery. “Perhaps this storm is the wrath of God, sent to make me miserable for loving a lowborn officer instead of some stuffy, boring lord.”  


That made Jon laugh, “I do not think so little sister.” He ended his questions and they sat in the quiet and dim library, staring out at the rain together. Arya thought about her foolishness and her disappointment in Gendry’s lack of reciprocation in her feelings. Jon on the other hand mulled over a plan of action.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to the close here folks!  
> Any thoughts? I'll accept comments as a birthday present since that's this weekend.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry has something to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last actual chapter, I'm sorry it's short but there was nothing else to add

Jon went to pay a visit to Captain Waters after the rain finally stopped, a week after Arya took ill. There was some speculation among the ladies as to what the visit must be about as Arya had not chosen to confide in any of them. She was far too humiliated to admit her shame to her sister, aunt, and friends. It did not take long for the small fuss to end as the ladies occupied themselves with more interesting activities and gossip.  


Miss Lyanna Mormont and her sisters were visiting that afternoon as the Winterfell ladies were assisting her in forming the wedding plans. The happy couple had selected the date for their wedding which would occur in London that Christmas. At the moment they were all fixated on plans for when and where to shop for wedding clothes, what sort of flowers they might be able to find in the city at Christmastime, and other such minutiae. Arya contributed little to the conversation, she did not have the heart for it. Instead she sat apart from the group and tried desperately to untangle the knots in her embroidery. She could make a gown but she still could barely embroider without ruining the project. Her former governess, Miss Mordane must have been telling the truth when she told Arya’s mother that Arya had the hands of a blacksmith. No matter how much time passed it seemed she would never excel at embroidery.  


Arya sat in an ill humor for much of the morning and early afternoon. When her sister came and asked her to join the group Arya excused herself saying, “I am afraid I feel quite mean today, I would be terrible company for you.”  


Arya took the path through the west garden towards the wolfswood. While the world outside was still rather cold and windy it was enough of an improvement for Arya to take a walk. She crossed the creaking ancient drawbridge into the woods. Arya kept to the edges of the wolfswood for a time before she turned out and started back toward the house along the southern paths. It was colder along the ancient moors and hedgerows, Arya pulled her jacket tighter and looked up at the sky. It was gray though not so bad as it had been the week before and though the earth smelled clean from the rainstorms it did not have the smell that warned of approaching rain. With that thought to motivate her Arya took a longer route, dashing along between the hedgerows, up and down the hills, and through the edges of the little woods between farms.  


As she neared the main road she saw the too recognizable figure of Gendry heading towards her. Arya turned at the nearest branch in the footpath and walked quickly down it but she heard the sound of pounding feet near her. Arya turned towards Gendry and waited with her hands on her hips, a wide stance she’d seen used often by mothers and cooks. Gendry halted when he reached her. He looked down at her with his blue, blue eyes and from the tightness in his eyes and his ever-moving mouth he seemed nervous. “Arya,” he said at last.  


“Gendry,” Arya replied coldly.  


Gendry removed his hat with trembling hands, holding it before his chest like a shield. “Arya I hoped to see you today.”  


“Really, why?” Arya crossed her arms in front of her, pulling her jacket close again.  


Gendry coughed and toed the mud with his boot. “I believe I owe you an apology.”  


“An apology for what exactly?”  


“I was harsh when we spoke, or argued, last week. Your cousin came to have a word with me today. He said you took ill and seemed to be quite broken-hearted.”  


Arya tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, a mask of indifference on her face. “Was I? I don’t recall telling Jon to intervene on my behalf.”  


“He threatened to duel me if I did not find some way to make amends with you soon.”  


“So are you going to force Jon to take action?”  


He shook his head, “Of course not.”  


They stood quietly, staring at one another while Arya waited for him to continue. Gendry looked at his feet and considered his words carefully. “After we quarreled Arya, I – I have spent the last week in agony. _Of course I love you_ I have known that for years, though you couldn’t have paid me to admit it. but you are a noblewoman and I am only a naval captain. Although you and your cousin assure me that if I were to ask for your hand that we could find acceptance and live well and after living for a week in my own hell I am willing to accept that but there is another issue between us and that is that you are also, possibly, the most irritating woman I have ever known and ever will know and I cannot think of a cure for it.”  


“– Maybe I wouldn’t be if you weren’t the most irritating man in the world!” Arya shoved him lightly in the stomach.  


He did not move when she pushed him, “And if I were to marry you don’t you think we would spend the rest of our lives driving each other mad?”  


Arya glared at him and adjusted the sleeves of her jacket, “Perhaps we would but if we are being honest with each other again I would rather spend the rest of my life being driven mad by you than being bored stiff by some overbearing, boring lord who only wants me for a dowry and a connection to a peer.”  


That made Gendry smile. “If that is how you feel my lady then I think we ought to marry and get on with it.”  


Arya grinned for a moment, but pulled her face back under control. “Well aren’t you going to ask me?”  


Gendry groaned, “And already you are ordering me around.”  


“I’ve been ordering you around since we were children you stupid bull.”  


“You may be right but that does not soften the blow. Anyway, because you insist,” Gendry took another step forward and cupped Arya’s chin with his hand. “Lady Arya Stark, will you be my wife?”  


“Yes, yes of course.” and Arya pulled his face down to hers. The kiss was artless as neither of them were experienced in the art of kissing but Arya liked the feeling of his mouth on hers all the same. They parted but Gendry pulled her back, one hand in her hair and the other on the small of her back.  


Arya was slightly dizzy when she broke off and, breathlessly exclaimed “I don’t believe we’re supposed to do this.”  


“And why not?” Gendry asked, his lips brushing against her cheek.  


“Because we’re supposed to be proper and well behaved and well-behaved English people do not touch before they are married, I am quite certain that kissing is included in touching.”  


“Just once more then?” Gendry asked. Arya thought she might drown in his eyes one day if she did not stop staring into them. She obliged him once more, then several more times before she firmly announced that they could not risk being caught stealing kisses and that she must return to the house before her family worried.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like?


	14. Epilogue

Arya and Gendry were not able to marry as quickly as they’d hoped to though their engagement was short by many people’s view. “It was only three months! It is entirely possible they married quickly because they have a secret” one Miss Manderly exclaimed to her friend Lady Thenn after the wedding had taken place. Miss Manderly was wrong of course though she was not the only person to come to that conclusion. Gossips also enjoyed speculating on why it was that the bride’s cousin escorted her to her groom rather than her brother.  


The wedding was a rather small affair. While Sansa had tried to convince her sister to allow a large crowd or peers, friends, and acquaintances Arya insisted that she only wished for people she knew and loved well to attend even the reception. Indeed the Manderly family was perhaps the most distant group she invited. The small group of family and very close friends crowded into the small local church in Winter’s Town which had been decorated simply under Lady Hardyng’s eye to watch Arya Stark marry. Something she had once sworn would never occur.  


Arya had not chosen her wedding clothes though she had been able to convince her sister to remove most of the elegant frills. Despite its simplicity the white and gray satin gown, embroidered with a pattern of blue roses and wolves along the hems became a model for the weddings of several other women among the Starks’ peers and the local women. Several of those women asked for and were denied bouquets of the blue roses that the Stark family had cultivated for centuries to match Lady Arya’s.  


The wedding breakfast was a more lively affair. Arya watched her family and friends talking and laughing merrily while they ate together. She ate little but drank a good deal more of the chocolate than would be advisable. She imagined her old governess would have had a fit should she have seen Arya’s gluttony.  


The couple’s wedding tour was a rather extravagant affair. With the war on the continent over and done with they spent the winter travelling on the continent. When they returned Lady and Captain Waters took a house in Essex where they would live when they were not in London or Winterfell.  


Once the young couples returned from their travels they were overjoyed to meet the newest addition to the Stark family, a little girl. In the course of only a few years the family expanded with additional children and continuous contact with their many friends and relations.  


Young Lord Rickon followed his elder sister in travelling the continent, though a month later. He and his wife established a fine home across the sea and while they were unable to visit their families often they still enjoyed the connection of correspondence and the continuous bond of familial love.  


On the afternoon of her wedding day Arya remarked to her cousin that “I feel our troubles are over at last. And don’t look at me like that Jon I know full well that there will always be trials and troubles in our lives but I truly believe that from now on our family will be free from the tragedy that has followed so close behind us that I could often feel it breathing down my neck.” Minutes later her husband swept her into the carriage and they departed her home to explore the world beyond together.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think overall?


End file.
